


There's No Future, There's No Past

by inabodycastofglass



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Auguste (Captive Prince) Lives, Auguste gets married, M/M, Manipulative Laurent, Regent free story, Title from a Vanessa Carlton song
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2018-12-19 18:09:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11903322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inabodycastofglass/pseuds/inabodycastofglass
Summary: Laurent wanted to hurt Damen as much as Damen had hurt him.Laurent wanted to make Damen fall in love with him, body and soul, and then he wanted to crush him.





	1. Engagement

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first CaPri story, so it's going to take me a few chapters to get used to the characters and this style. I am changing the characters some to fit with the alternate timeline, so if you have any critiques or suggestions, please throw them my way.

Laurent stared at Auguste for a moment, letting his news sink in. He took a deep breath, setting his book on his lap. “Excuse me, you’re getting married?”

His tone did nothing to dampen Auguste’s mood. “To Irodocia.”

Laurent rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Which one is she?”

Auguste sat down on the other side of the couch, forcing Laurent to pull his feet up. He had that goofy smile Laurent hadn’t seen since his early twenties. “She’s the pretty one.”

“That’s not helpful when I haven’t met any of them.”

“You could have come with me to Akielos.”

Laurent glared at him.

Auguste squished him further so he could wrap an arm around him in a half hug. “You’ll love her, I promise.”

Laurent rolled his eyes. “I’m sure.”

“Do you think I’d marry a woman I wasn’t positive my little brother would like?”

Laurent’s head tilted down. “No, of course not.”

Auguste kissed his cheek. “So, now that you’ve heard the good news.”

Laurent’s lips formed a line. He already guessed what that tone meant. “Damianos will be attending the wedding.”

Auguste’s smile was lopsided and awkward. “He’s the Crown Prince and Irodocia’s cousin. Even if we weren’t friends I would have to invite him.”

Laurent took a breath, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. Inside he still felt like he was screaming, but it helped him play at calm. “How long will he be staying?”

“He’ll be arriving next week and staying for six weeks until after the wedding.”

The double blow made Laurent’s composure shatter. “Six weeks? You’re getting married in seven weeks? Auguste.”

“I know, but her family has already taken care of most of the arrangements. The seven weeks are just for what needs to be done here.” He put his arm over the back of the couch, shifting his weight to one side. “They’re very excited.”

It struck Laurent like an arrow, that Auguste had been in love with this woman, and yet he’d never told Laurent how close they were, or his intentions of making her queen. It would have destroyed him with every breath to hear so much about Akielos, but he still should have. “I expect to learn all about your barbarian wife before she arrives.”

Auguste leaned back on the couch, crossing his legs. “You know you can’t call her that when she gets here.”

Laurent smirked at him. “I don’t see how you can stop me.”

* * *

Laurent’s Damianos free week went by too fast. He clung to each passing day with the desperation of a child trying to run after the setting sun. His heart would pick up with every day crossed out on his calendar. It was like the warming days came with a whispered warning. _Damianos is coming._

“You’re being ridiculous.”

Laurent glared at Auguste, which, yet again, did nothing to affect him. “I certainly am not.”

“Laurent, I know seeing Damen-- Damianos will be difficult for you. I’m sorry that you have to. But he’s just a person.” Auguste put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re stronger than you realise. You will make it through this just fine.”

Laurent bit the inside of his cheek, pursing his lips to hide it. "You give me too much credit." The words were much quieter than he'd intended. He could hardly get them out.

Auguste's hand rested firmly on the back of his neck, it was grounding when Laurent felt like his head would just fall off and roll away. "I don't, because I've seen what you're capable of. And I know that you won't just get through this. You will make it bow to your will."

Though Laurent was twenty now, his lip quivered. He wanted to hug his brother like he used to.

He didn't cry, because that would betray Auguste’s confidence, and because Laurent hadn't cried for several years now.

* * *

Damianos arrived with Irodocia right on time.

Auguste and Laurent met them in the throne room, as was proper. When they walked in, Auguste greeted them with a grin, hopping to his feet. He hugged Damianos like they were childhood friends and kissed his fiance's hand before Laurent got to his feet.

When Laurent saw him, his mind screamed the name he'd refused to think or hear for years. Damen! For he had been Damen once, and maybe he always would be. Laurent wouldn't say it, but he couldn't seem to stop thinking it. Damen. Damen. Damen. Like a heartbeat.

His legs were unsteady, and he thought a single, violent thump of his heart would knock him down.

That thump came when Damen looked at him. His eyes and smile were warm, like Laurent was someone special to him.

He managed to stay standing, somehow. Maybe it was the strength Auguste saw in him, because he couldn't figure it out.

When Damen took Laurent’s fingers in his own, and kissed the back of his hand, Laurent was certain his pulse could be felt through his skin.

He couldn't breathe.

"Laurent, meet my finace." Auguste led her over to the throne that Laurent still risked collapsing back onto. "Iro, this is my little brother, Laurent."

She smiled at him, and he saw how his brother had been charmed. Auguste had always liked those bright, hold nothing back smiles. "It's so good to meet you. I've heard so much about you."

He took her hand the proper way, palm to palm, and kissed it. "A pleasure. And a shame it took so long. I look forward to getting to know you as my sister."

She beamed at this, moving, possibly subconsciously, closer to Auguste. If Laurent weren't so distressed, he was sure he would smile, too. As it was, he barely managed to turn quivering lips upward in some sad mockery.

* * *

There was a ball the next night, to welcome their royal guests. The engagement would have called for a party, but the presence of Damen hyped everything to its extreme. They needed to impressed, and this was the height of Vere’s splendor.

Laurent allowed himself to wonder how Akielos entertained Auguste when he visited. Possibly with fights and bloodshed. How many slaves were killed every year to give his brother something to look at?

He pushed the thought away, no longer amused by their brutish ways. Instead he pondered escape plans, and how many dances he would have to endure before he could leave without being missed.

He wished again that he wasn't a prince. He would be happy as a royal librarian. Librarians didn't have to attend social gatherings. Librarians got to spend these events in the library, reading and sorting books.

Librarians didn't have their older brothers showing up at their doors to make sure they attended the balls.

Laurent huffed as Auguste fixed some of his laces.

"I wouldn't have to do this if you would just have a servant do it."

"I don't want to have a servant do it. I can do it myself."

Auguste smirked at him in the mirror. "I think you just like having me help you instead."

Laurent's cheeks turned pink. "I like spending time with you, but I wouldn't force your hand."

Auguste finished with the laces at Laurent’s nape and kissed the side of his head. "Braid your hair tonight or I'll have Esmee cut it off while you sleep."

Laurent pulled his hair over his shoulder, holding it protectively.

Auguste grinned. "Be in the ballroom in an hour, or I will send Jord to carry you there."

Laurent stuck his tongue out at Auguste's retreating back. He felt okay, happy even, until he heard Damen's voice, muffled by distance, laughing.

His hands felt numb as he turned to the mirror to braid his hair, causing him to mess up several times. He forced all of his thoughts to the task as he started over, taking deep breaths. Six weeks. He could last six weeks.

Laurent sat in his rooms, trying to read but getting distracted by every noise outside the door. At ten after the hour he finally gave in, Auguste's threat a little too real. He doubted Jord could carry him, but not that he would try, pushed forward by his unwavering loyalty to his brother. Either way he would wind up at the ballroom. He might as well choose the option that allowed him to keep his dignity.

He managed to arrive before the dancing, which meant he would be required to join in, partnering with one of the barbarians while Auguste danced with his finace.

He found his brother and made his way over to his circle.

"You've decided to join us." August put his free arm around Laurent's shoulder. "How good of you."

He tried not to smile, failing pitifully. "I wouldn't want to embarrass myself by refusing."

Auguste's eyes sparkled before he turned back to the people he's been talking to before Laurent arrived.

Auguste thankfully never called on Laurent to speak when he didn't wish to. It made useless events like this more bearable.

But nothing could make this ball anything but tragic. He soon spotted Damen towering over the crowd, inhumanly tall and broad, easily taking up the space of two normal men.

Auguste's arm tightened around Laurent, either to comfort him or to keep him from bolting. "You're late, Damen."

Damen pulled at his collar. "I'm sorry. These Veretian style clothes are hard to put on, even with the help of a servant. I swear he was laughing at the way they make me look."

It was a joke, obviously, but Laurent could picture the servant snickering at Damen's bulking muscles peaking through the laces, and the way the pale blue clashed with his colouring. Laurent had to cover his mouth to stifle his laughter, a motion that drew Damen's gaze.

He gave Laurent a crooked grin that made him feel like his heart had stopped. "See Auguste, I told you this was a bad idea."

"If I can wear a chiton when I visit Akielos, you can wear a suit."

The image of his brother trying to keep his modesty in one of those tiny Akielon dresses passed through Laurent's mind, and he burst into laughter, holding to Auguste's shirt for balance.

The action had earned him a mixture of reactions. The members of the Veretian court, who'd mostly ignored him growing up, looked at him with shock; the Akielon's amused. Likely they'd heard of these fits from Auguste.

He composed himself, standing straight, willing the blush away; but the way Auguste's arm squeezed around him in a way that was plainly affectionate made it difficult.

He caught Damen watching him from the other side of the circle as the conversation around them continued. He looked contemplative, interested. His eyes were on Laurent's braid, pulled carefully over his shoulder, when Laurent looked into his face, searching for that predatory hunger he was so used to seeing mixed into the expressions of the men who'd often started at him. But he didn't find it in Damen.

Damen's eyes met his, and he smiled, warm, charming, inviting. It made Laurent's heart pick up.

He looked away, wishing, for once, that the dancing would start so someone would pull him away.

Auguste took notice of the movement and looked down at him. His arm came to rest over his shoulder, hanging so it's large size hid part of Laurent face. "How long are we to wait for the dancing? It's been more than an hour. I can only be entertained by idle chatter for so long."

He caught the attention of the band and motioned for them to begin. The crowd immediately cleared the floor so their king and future queen could open.

Laurent glanced at Damen and saw the decision on his face.

He looked to Auguste for help, trying to hide his panic. But it was Irodocia that stepped up to him, stopping Damen suddenly.

"I was hoping to dance with Laurent before he runs away." She smiled at Auguste with that bit of mischief Laurent was beginning to associate with her.

Auguste's surprise quickly gave way to the usual amusement he had whenever his “shy” little brother had to be social. "Laurent would love to dance with you." Auguste gave him a small push toward her.

Laurent straightened himself. He held out his hand to Irodocia, and led her to the centre of the dancefloor, followed closely by Auguste and one of his friends.

Laurent was an accomplished dancer, much more so than Auguste, which proved to be useful as Irodocia had less than average grace. She followed Laurent at a half beat too slow. Somehow, that made the simple dance almost fun.

"As you can see, I didn't seduce your brother with my dancing skill."

He wasn't sure if it was an invite to join in on the deprecating humour, but he took the chance that she'd been made aware of his lack of social skills in case he was wrong. "You two make a perfect match then."

As if on queue Auguste stumbled, missing a step, and Irodocia laughed. It was like a feminine version of his brothers, full bellied and boisterous, and endeared her to Laurent immediately.

"To be honest, I was hoping for a chance to talk to you one on one, and this seemed to be the only way to force you."

"Well, you're honest at least."

"I can see no merit in lying to you. I very much want you to like me. I've always wanted a brother. Gaining one was a big factor in my decision to marry Auguste."

Laurent looked Irodocia in the eye. She was almost his exact height, and he wasn't short, no matter how he appeared next to Auguste. "You thought about saying no?"

"I love Auguste." Her voice was warm, and Laurent believed her. "But leaving your country to be queen of a people who barely trust you not to slaughter them while they sleep isn't exactly something to be desired." She looked to Auguste, smiling. "So he offered me something to make up for that."

Laurent thought to ask what, because the idea that he could matter to someone aside from his brother was hard to believe.

"I brought you a gift." She looked back to him as the song slowed to a close. "A bit of a bribe to get you to like me. I will give it to you after the ball, since I'm sure you're going to disappear soon."

Laurent saw Demen making his way over to them, and forced himself to keep his eyes on Irodocia. "You're right." He bowed to her. "If you'll excuse me." He left in the other direction, zigzagging to avoid other interested stare’s, keeping his eyes forward, watching from his peripheral.

To be extra safe, Laurent slipped behind a group of men all taller than him and looped back around.

When he was sure he'd lost Damen, he made his exit, heading to the library.

* * *

Irodocia found him in his nook, far in the back of the maze, a parcel in her hands. It was obviously a book, but Laurent pretended not to realise that.

"Auguste told me where to find you."

He put his book aside and sat up. "How long did it take him to notice I was gone?"

"About ten minutes."

_And Damen?_

He held out his hand for the book, not bothering to play at shyness.

She handed it to him, watching him unwrap it with excitement.

He stalled as the top corner was revealed. It was one he recognised.

Slowly, with shaking hands, he finished unwrapping it. HIs face was thoroughly flushed. He knew this book well, could recite the contents with ease.

Irodocia took his shock as a positive reaction. "It's a book of Akielon fables. Auguste told me you have a good grasp of our written language."

He got control of his breathing. The flowered tree and gold lettering dared him to lose himself in the stories and his memories.

He smiled at her. "Thank you. I'm sure I will enjoy them greatly."

* * *

Inside his rooms that night, Laurent abandoned the gift upside down on his desk.

Carefully he pulled several books off his personal bookshelf and set them aside, revealing a tattered, worn down copy of the same book hidden from everyone, including Auguste, behind them. He pulled it out with gentle fingers. It was warm, the front cover faded from use. He'd read it so many times it was a wonder it hadn't fallen apart.

Now was his chance to throw it away. He had a new one now, with no painful memories attached to it.

He went to the fireplace, his grip on the book tight. His breath was heavy as he forced his hand forward to toss it.

With a sigh he sat down on the pile of pillows and opened it to his favourite story; The Prince, the Warrior, and the Wolf.


	2. Chapter 2

It was difficult to get used to the new peace between Vere and Akielos. A lifetime of losing home and family to people who looked and acted nothing like you didn’t lend well to understanding. But the apparent trust between the two crowned princes helped. Blatantly disagreeing with your future sovereigns wasn’t something the common people just did.

Both princes were set to spend six months in the others kingdom as a public display of trust.

When Auguste returned to Vere, Laurent ran to meet him at the steps, holding him tightly around the waist.

Auguste laughed as he lifted Laurent into the air. He was too old for this treatment, but Auguste insisted that he would continue until Laurent was too large. “Why are you crying mon trésor?”

Laurent struggled out of his grasp, but still clung to his shirt. “I haven’t heard from you for almost three months before a week ago. I thought you’d died.” He glared up at Auguste. “What is wrong with you?”

“I’m sorry. We spent much of our time camping. It was difficult to get word out.”

“Or you liked that opposite sex consummation is accepted in Akielos and were too busy to let me know you were safe.”

Auguste flushed, more embarrassed than shamed. He cleared his throat. “Laurent, meet Prince Damianos.” He gestured to the man standing behind him.

Laurent stepped back, releasing Auguste’s shirt. He quickly wiped at his cheeks and stood up straight.

Damianos smiled at him and nodded.

Laurent felt self conscious to have the hulking man’s eyes on him. He wasn’t used to being watched, especially by adults. He pulled back his shoulders and puffed out his chest, trying to look larger.

“I’m going to show Damen the training grounds. Would you like to come?”

Laurent had little interest in swords and spears, but it had been so long since he’d really spent any time with Auguste, nearly a year, and his heart was still pounding with relief. “Yes, thank you.”

* * *

Auguste and Damen had decided to spar, a treat for Laurent they said. But he knew they were just restless from so much riding.

Laurent sat with his elbows on his knees, bored, as Auguste explained Veretian weaponry to Damen. It was all stuff he knew already, but the men seemed to be having the time of their lives. Occasionally Damen would swing one of the swords to test it, his arm and back muscles rippling. It didn’t matter which he chose, Auguste would win. Auguste always won.

Five minutes later, after giving up a win that Laurent would have taken, Auguste was on his back in the dirt, his sword half a metre to his left. Damen crouched over him, the tip of his blade to Auguste’s throat.

Laurent was on his feet, arms limp, gaping at them. Auguste had lost. Auguste never lost.

He ran down to them to find out what had happened. Surely Damen had cheated.

But when Damen had pulled Auguste to his feet the men were laughing. Laurent came to a stop with the realisation that this had happened before.

He felt a chill that clashed with the late summer humidity.

Auguste turned to him with a grin and waved him over, his arm slung lazily over Damen’s shoulder like this was a natural, expected thing, a Veretian and an Akielon holding swords to each other with no real danger of death.

It left Laurent breathless, and so desperately thankful for this peace.

Auguste invited Laurent to join them each day. On some he refused, and others he accepted, usually bringing a book to read when their brutish activities bored him.

He found, after a few weeks, that he was beginning to enjoy watching them. He would analyse their fights and give Auguste pointers, so the first time he pinned Damen in a wrestling match, which was not a traditional Veretian sport, Damen just stared at him from the dirt.

“How did that happen?”

Auguste flicked his sweat soaked head in Laurent’s direction. “I have a trainer.”

Laurent beamed with pride at being useful.

Damen looked to him as a servant brushed the dirt from his back. “You taught him that?”

Laurent’s stomach tumbled, as it did every time Damen spoke to him. He crossed his arms, nodding.

Damen motioned him over. “What did you tell him?”

Laurent looked to Auguste before taking a breath. “You favour moves that involve off balancing your opponent's left side, particularly the one where you trip them from the inside.”

This seemed to be news to Damen. “I’ll have to have a talk with my instructor about that when I get home.”

He studied Laurent for a moment, looking him over, making his skin warm. “So you understand the sport. Are you any good at it?”

“Excuse me?”

“Can you wrestle?”

The idea seemed preposterous. “I do not roll around in the dirt like a dog.”

Auguste barked out a laugh beside him.

Damen grinned at him, standing up straight. “Well, today you will.”

Laurent took a step back. “What?”

“You’re going to learn to wrestle.”

“That sounds like a good idea.”

Laurent spun to face Auguste. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am, you should know how to defend yourself.”

_But why would I need to defend myself if I have you?_

“I can defend myself fine.”

“Yeah.” Damen took a giants step toward him. “Prove it.”

Laurent took several quick steps back, feeling very warm. “That’s not fair. You’re massive.”

“The people who might try to hurt you won’t be small. They’ll be specifically chosen to overpower you.”

Laurent’s heart pounded as Damian continued to advance on him. He looked to Auguste, who stood by and let this barbarian back him into the stands.

When Damen lifted him by the waist, Laurent flailed, elbowing him in the eye. Damen stumbled, grunting, but didn’t drop him.

Laurent tried to calm down and think rationally. He’d been scared before and handled it, but this was an entirely new kind of fear. He felt short of breath.

He yanked on Damen’s hair and kicked him. When Damen held down his arm, he used his other one to scratch at his already swelling eye.

With a yell, Damen dropped him.

Laurent scrambled to his feet and ran to Auguste, hiding behind him. He heaved, hiding his face in Auguste’s shirt.

“So wrestling is out.” Damen sent a servant to get something for his eye. “Maybe you could learn some swordplay instead. Less contact with swordplay.”

Auguste laughed, slinging his arm over Laurent’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze like Laurent had seen him do with Damen and his other friends.

* * *

The next day started Laurent’s sword training.

Damen’s eye was swollen half shut, purple and green. Everyone had been staring, wondering how he’d got it, but they didn’t ask, and so Damen didn’t answer.

Laurent thought he might have figured out his strange fear, but it wasn’t something he was eager to think about, especially with Damen’s hands all over his arms and torso, correcting his stance, hold, and swing.

By the end of the two hours, his arms were sore and shaking, and his face and chest were flushed. He almost ran from the arena when Damen gave the okay.

Laurent collapsed on the couch in Auguste’s rooms that night. His legs barely worked. “Don’t make me do that tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to do that tomorrow.”

Laurent sat up, staring wide eyed at him. “Really?”

“We have a meeting tomorrow. You can pick it back up the day after.”

Laurent groaned, falling back down. “When did you turn mean?”

Auguste smiled. “Around the time you started to have feelings for Damen.”

Laurent sat up, looking around the room. He ran to the door and looked down the hall. He shut the door, pressing his back to it. “What are you talking about?”

Auguste put his pen down. He wasn’t quite smiling at Laurent. “You can’t be serious. I see the way you act with him.”

Laurent’s heart beat rapidly. “I can assure you that I do not have feelings for Damen.” Each word was stiff and separate, and even Laurent didn’t find himself convincing.

Auguste leaned back in his chair, resting his arm over the back. Everything Auguste did had a casual ease Laurent could never match. If he could, maybe he could pretend he wasn’t confused.

“My first love was Angeline.”

Laurent thought of the horse master. His face twisted. “She’s fifty.”

“She was thirty-five, and I was ten.” He held a hand out to Laurent, beckoning him. “The point I’m making is that it’s okay to like Damen.”

Laurent stayed where he was. “I do not like that barbarian.”

Auguste blew the hair from his eyes. “Whatever you say, doudou.”

* * *

Laurent wasn’t a child, but Damen made him want to act like one. He wanted all of Damen’s attention. He craved his approval.

Laurent’s skill in swordplay improved faster than even he thought possible. He strived for perfection, ignoring his aching muscles and blistered hands until Auguste forced him to take a break and let himself heal.

During that time he watched the two of them spar, wrestle, and hunt from behind a book or atop a horse.

Two months into Damen’s visit, there was a problem with a feral bobcat that had made it’s way down from the mountains, and had been stealing food from a village. The people had tried to trap it, but a child had been killed when it escaped. So Auguste ordered a small group to come and take care of it.

Damen saw Laurent looking at a tree, his lips thin in contemplation. He rode up next to him. “What is it?”

Laurent blinked, unused to being acknowledged during these events. Usually he just rode around behind Auguste, or stood off to the side. “If we set up a blockade along this line, the cat won’t have any choice but to enter the clearing a quarter kelometre that way. You can chase it into an ambush.”

Damen looked at the line between two trees Laurent had spoken of, his eyes going far off as he contemplated Laurent’s suggestion.

He turned to the rest of the party, calling Auguste over to them.

“Laurent, explained your plan again.”

It sounded odd to him, that something he thought could matter enough to be worth considering. A plan. But he explained again, anyway.

Auguste’s actions mirrored Damen’s, then he rode back to the other men. “Come.”

Laurent followed Damen over to them, into the circle, a place he’d never been welcomed before. It made him feel important even as the other men ignored him. His heart raced as he sat between Damen and Auguste.

Laurent’s idea quickly became something fleshed out and plausible, and the men were sorted into two groups, one to chase the cat, and one to trap it.

Damen turned to Laurent. “How are you with a spear?”

He was surprised again to be addressed. “Adequate. Why?”

“Well, it was your plan. You should have the glory of killing it.”

The shock of the men both embarrassed and pleased him. He sat up straighter, lifting his chin as he considered this. “I’m better at riding. Someone stronger should take the shot. You or Auguste.”

Auguste looked pleased at this. Even the men muttered their grudging respect.

Damen looked to Auguste, who nodded. “I will do it. Men.” He gave Laurent a smile that further warmed him.

He rode beside Auguste, drunk in his victory and using the authority his birth gave him. “Why did my decision cause such a reaction?”

Auguste gave him that affectionate look that was usually followed by a hand on his head. “You made a wise decision to let Damen make the kill. You gave up glory for the good of the group and the village.”

That hadn’t been Laurent’s intention. He’d only wanted to avoid the inevitable shame that would come with failure. But he kept this to himself. For now he wanted to bask in the respect of Auguste, his men, and of Damen.

* * *

After, Damen regularly asked Laurent’s thoughts on any subject that was being discussed.

Whenever Laurent grew thoughtful, he would inevitably be interrupted by Damen. It didn’t bother him like it usually would. Between the feeling of importance, and Damen being so eager to his his thoughts, he was thrilled pink. He even began to volunteer them after a while.

Auguste let out a sigh after a particularly stressful meeting that went nowhere. “Sometimes, Laurent, I wish you had been born a lord instead. Then I could use you as a general. You’d be a good general.”

Laurent wasn’t sure if he should be feeling pride or hurt at this.

“Laurent makes a fine prince.” Damen sauntered a few paces behind them. Even his words were lazy, though they made the hair on Laurent’s arms stand on end with excitement. “With some seasoning he could challenge you to the throne.”

“Absolutely not.” Laurent crossed his arms and scowled, mostly to hide how pleased he really was by the compliment. “I will never be king.”

Auguste ruffled his hair. “As happy as I am not to have to fear you staging a coup against me, I would like you to consider the possibility, if only in case something were to happen to me.”

Laurent’s face was hard. He no longer felt any pleasure. “I will not.”

Auguste sighed and exchanged a look with Damen. The rest of their walk was silent.

* * *

As the last month of Damen’s visit arrived, there was a ball for Auguste’s birthday. It wasn’t how he would have chosen to spend the day, but it was expected.

Laurent, though he was still too young to attend such events, was “invited” for being Auguste’s family. He wished he hadn’t been.

There was no one within three years his age there, making him both blend into the walls and stand out.

It was a comfort having Damen there. He was someone to stick close to when Auguste was socialising, and his revealing formal wear made Laurent feel warm in the late Autumn chill.

Between peaks at Damen, Laurent saw half the hall eyeing him as well. Women and men, both married and single raked his body with their gazes, starving. What would it be like to have an Akielon?

Laurent gripped his glass. Auguste and Damen had spoken openly about their preferences. It didn’t matter if Laurent had blonde hair and pale skin, he was still a boy.

“Squeeze that any tighter and it'll shatter.”

Laurent glanced up at Damen, then back down, hiding. He couldn’t think of anything to say, so he said nothing.

“You look bored.”

He forced his grip to loosen and twisted his glass slowly, focusing on the way the liquid rippled. “I’m too young to dance with anyone here, and I rarely talk with anyone other than Auguste or you.”

“Do you want to dance?”

Laurent started, but he pushed the idea that he was being invited aside. It was just conversation.

He looked at the couples swinging around grandly. Dancing was something he enjoyed, mostly because he was good at it. He wished those three years would pass already, so he could enjoy some part of these things.

“I do.”

Damen held his hand out.

Laurent looked at it, then up at Damen, his breath short. “With me?” His voice cracked, as it often did these days, but Laurent didn’t think it was because of puberty.

“Are you saying no?” Damen’s voice was light and amused. He smiled at Laurent as he waited.

“No. I mean, I’m not.” He squared his shoulders, taking a deep breath. “I would like to dance.” He set his glass aside and took Damen’s hand, walking beside him, his chin up, onto the dance floor.

Laurent was too young for his first dance. The people who stared at them gave amused smiles. Damen was doing a favour for Auguste by entertaining his little brother.

But when Damen’s arm wrapped around the back of Laurent’s chest, resting between his shoulder blades, holding him steady and straight, his heart pounded. He swallowed, the sound carrying over the music. With great difficulty he looked up and up and up at Damen.

His skin had paled a bit due to the mild Veretian weather, but it still had a healthy glow. The smile he gave Laurent reached his eyes. “Are you ready?”

Laurent was sure the heat of his skin could be felt through his clothes. “Yes.”

The song slowed to a stop, and another one picked up.

“Good.”

Then Laurent was being swung around by Damen’s strong arms and wide steps. He barely managed to keep his feet on the floor. His head barely reached the middle of Damen’s chest.

It was the freedom and wildness of riding a horse, but he gave all his trust to Damen. A misstep or a stumble would send Laurent sprawling, and he couldn’t stop it. His head rushed, and a giggle bubbled out of him.

It didn’t last long enough. After they stopped, while his head was trying to catch up, Laurent gripped Damen’s sleeve, then pulled his hand away. He wasn’t a child. He couldn’t beg like that.

Damen put a hand on his shoulder. “We can dance again later, as long as you’re still here.” he winked and left to find Auguste.

Laurent was glad his face was already flushed and wild from the dance.

They danced two more times that night.

* * *

A week before Damen was to leave, his best friend, Nikandros, came with his escort. He was tall and burly like Damen, but more serious, and his naturally quiet nature did something to their group. Laurent no longer had a place. Now with three towering adults, he felt like a child, something he’d separated himself from, with only Auguste and Damen.

Laurent excused himself almost immediately after their introductions, feeling a knot in his throat. He went to the library.

* * *

There was a knock on a bookshelf near his hideaway, and he looked up to tell Auguste to go away. The words caught in his throat when he saw Damen watching him.

“This place is hard to find.”

“That’s because no one is supposed to know about it.”

Damen leaned casually against the side of the bookshelf, his arm above his head, pulling his loose winter shirt up to show part of his stomach, which Laurent managed to not look directly at. “Nik thinks you dislike him.”

“Preposterous. I don’t even know him.”

Damen shrugged. “He thinks you’re in here avoiding him.”

“Nonsense. I thought I’d give you some time to catch up without me under toe.”

Damen’s brows knit and he stepped away from the bookshelf slowly. “You act as if you’re a bother.”

Laurent swallowed, the sound a crackle in his inner ear. He didn’t want to say anything. To confirm, though it was true, would make him sound like a child in front of the last person he wanted thinking of him as such. He took a moment to think, and Damen gave it to him.

“Your friend is here to see you for the first time in more than half a year. I wanted to give you time.”

“I will have a lifetime with Nik. But I say goodbye to you in six days. Come, spend it with us. I think Nik is growing bored with two lunkheads.”

“You’re not a lunkhead.” It came out quietly, like it was a secret.

Damen gave him that smile again. And Laurent got up to follow him like a puppy.

* * *

When Laurent visited Damen’s room four nights later for his small going away party, there was a parcel on his desk, and Laurent’s curiosity flared. It was new, obviously a present from Nikandros. But why hadn’t he opened it yet? Was he waiting until he left for Akielos?

Laurent was suddenly overcome with the need to know. Could he tie it back up so it looked exactly as it did?

Damen picked it up, and Laurent blushed, looking away. It was too late, Damen had seen the unguarded desire on his face.

After he tossed it from hand to hand, Laurent saw, from the corner of his eye, Damen hold it out to him.

He turned to look at it, his back and shoulders tense. He glanced up at Damen, his brows raised. Slowly he reached out and took it.

When he didn’t open it, Damen pushed closer to him. “It’s for you.”

A soft numbness washed over him. “Why?”

Laurent was getting used to that amused grin of his. “For your birthday. It’s coming up.” He perched on the edge of the desk and crossed his arms. “I won’t be here for it, so I wanted to give you this now.”

Laurent stared at the package, his mind lagging. He held it up. “This is for me?”

Damen, to his credit, didn’t laugh at him, though he looked like he wanted to. “Yes.”

“Should I open it now?”

“If you’d like.”

Laurent set it down gently on the desk. He opened it carefully, saving the string and wrapping, setting them aside.

It was a book, which he’d figured out by holding it. It was worn from use, but still in good shape. It was beautiful, leather bound with gold lettering. When Laurent opened it, the Akielon words swam in his eyes, disorienting him. The words on the cover looked enough like Veretian that he mistook them at first glance.

He closed it and squinted at the cover, trying to read the words. “Children’s fables?” He glared at Damen. “I am not a child.”

“I’m aware.” He put his hands on the edge of the desk. “It’s to help you learn to read and write Akielon. The simple language is good for a beginner.”

“Oh.” Laurent looked down at the book, running his fingers along the indented words. “Thank you.”

“I expect you to be conversational when you visit me.”

Laurent’s fingers stilled, hovering just above the cover. “You want me to visit you?” He couldn’t look at Damen.

“Of course.” He didn’t elaborate.

Laurent bit the inside of his cheek, keeping his smile away, but it pulled at his face, refusing to stay hidden.

He jumped when Auguste and Nikandros came in, loud and laughing. He held the book to his chest, keeping his red face down. He felt like the others would be able to see his heart beating if he didn’t keep it hidden. “I’ll bring this back to my room and start studying.”

He rushed away before Damen could say more than “okay”, running down the hall. He was grinning like a fool.

* * *

Laurent sat on a branch in the garden, picking petals from a flower. Damen was leaving the next morning, which should have distressed him, but he felt like his heart would leap out of his mouth.

He should say something about this. Maybe Damen would understand. Nothing could come of it now, of course. But Laurent was almost fifteen. In a little more than two years he would be old enough to at least consider marrying. Maybe Damen would wait for him. He wouldn’t have to stay celibate. That wasn’t a fair thing to ask. But he could keep Laurent in his mind, a promise of a possibility.

He stood up, his chest swelling. He was going to do it. Laurent was going to tell Damen he loved him.

With shaking hands he picked some flowers, then made his way to Damen’s room, his grin wide and free for everyone to see.

Laurent caught sight of Nikandros inside Damen’s door and threw himself against the wall in a panic, losing his breath. He’d been expecting Damen to be alone.

“Prince Laurent will be crushed when you leave tomorrow. He might cry.”

Laurent held his breath and inched closer to the door to hear them better.

“He won’t cry.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. He’s very fond of you.”

“He’s a good kid.”

Laurent leaned forward, trying to peek at them.

Damen moved around the room, grabbing last minute items the servants had forgot, or thought belonged to Vere, while Nikandros stood with his back to Laurent, watching.

“I think he’s about ready to propose to you, based on how red he was last night when he left.”

Damen laughed, and the sound made Laurent’s stomach drop. “He’s a kid, Nik. He’s mature for his age, but he’s fourteen. He just wanted someone to acknowledge him.”

“So there won’t be any wedding bells in the future?” His tone was teasing. This was a joke.

Laurent’s hands shook as he squeezed the flowers so hard their stems cracked. He couldn’t breathe.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Laurent stumbled away a few steps, his ears ringing. A few flowers fell to the floor. He watched them for a very long moment, unaware of exactly how they had wound up there. He dropped to his knees to pick them up.

He sat there, reality rushing back to him.

Damen had just laughed at the very idea of Laurent loving him. He covered his mouth to stifle a sob, tears running down his chin and neck, soaking his collar.

He got to his feet, stumbling, dropping the rest of the flowers. After a few steps he got his footing and rushed back to his room, first at a walk, then a run.

He sent his guards away and slammed his door. He looked around, disoriented, more hyperventilating than crying. He grabbed something from his desk and hurtled it at the wall, shattering it. He threw another object, and another. He didn’t know what he was destroying.

Heaving loudly, he leaned on his desk, gripping the edges with white knuckles.

He looked to the open book of children’s fables, the Akielon letters large, straight, and clear. His breath pushed out in a strained rush, and he couldn’t pull any more in.

That stupid book. Damn had said it wasn’t because he was a child. What else had he lied about? Did he think Laurent was worth anything at all?

He grabbed it, swinging around, yelling, he lifted it above his head to throw into the fire.

A hand wrapped around his wrist, an arm around his waist. He thrashed, screaming, fighting Auguste. “Let me go!”

Auguste held him fast until he was on the floor, crying into his chest, the book on the ground beside them. He clung to Auguste’s shirt. His chest, stomach, arms, throat all burned as his body wracked with sobs.

“I’m a joke. I was never anything but your little brother. I thought- I thought-”

Auguste rocked him slowly. “I’m sorry, mon trésor.”

“I hate him.” He pushed his palms into his eyes, his arms, his entire body shaking. “I hate him! Why? Why him? Auguste, why him?”

Auguste held him tightly so Laurent could feel his heart pounding. “I’m so sorry, Laurent. I’m so sorry.”

Auguste stayed with him all night as he calmed, then cried again, tore pages from his books, stared blankly at the fire, ranted until he was crying again, then laid numbly on his bed until, eventually, he fell asleep.

* * *

When Laurent woke he was alone. There was a note from Auguste on his bedside telling him to spend his day resting, that he would be back when Damen was gone.

He called for his private bath to be filled so he could soak away his headache.

His room was a mess. What books he hadn’t destroyed were laid open on the floor, their pages bent; his lamp was in pieces; oil stained his rug; a pillow had been torn apart; there was a hole in one of his walls.

He flushed with shame at his behaviour the night before. Taking a deep breath, he set to cleaning. He could have had a servant do it, but he wanted to keep this from as many eyes as possible.

He picked up the book of fables, his eyes welling up again. He should burn it. It would cause him nothing but pain every time he saw it. But, as he looked to the fire, dimmed to hardly more than embers, his arms felt weak.

He held it to his chest for a long time, his heart thumping against it. He took a deep breath, went to his bookshelf, and slipped it onto the bottom shelf, the face pressed to the wood at the back. He put several smaller books in front of it.

After a deep breath, he went back to work, vowing to put Damen out of his mind for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know next to nothing about wrestling or hunting.


	3. Decision

Laurent woke sprawled out on his pillows in front of his fireplace, the worn fables open on his chest. He sat up slowly, his head still heavy with lingering dreams.

He groaned, pressing on his eyes.

Damen was here.

With a great sigh, he got up to start his day.

Laurent entered the dining hall for lunch with his head held high, despite the pounding of his heart. He kept his eyes off Damen as he took his seat beside Auguste, though he could see him in his peripheral.

“You’re up late for someone who left the ball after one dance.”

Laurent sent Auguste a sharp look. “I was up until the morning reading.”

Irodocia beamed, and Laurent couldn’t help but smile. She was so easy to please.

Damen leaned across the table toward him. “What are you reading?”

Laurent frowned. He didn’t want to tell him. He glanced to Irodocia, which did not go unnoticed. “Just a history book.” He winked at her, making her laugh tauntingly.

Auguste smiled without looking up from the paperwork he brought with him. “I’m glad to see you two are getting along. I won’t be able to get away today, so I’ll need you two to entertain each other.”

Damen’s eyes flicked to Laurent.

His throat felt tight. “Can I help you with anything?”

Auguste’s eyes apologised. “Not today, mon canard.”

Laurent pursed his lips. “I suppose the fair weather would be good for a ride. Irodocia, how are you with a horse?”

She shrugged as she took a sip of tea. “Decent.”

Auguste snorted. “She’s better than decent. You should see her and Damen race.”

“That sounds like a plan.” Damen got to his feet. “You should race with us as well, Laurent. You might put us both to shame.”

“And where would you get that idea? You haven’t seen me ride since I was a child.”

“And you gave me a run for my money then. I’m eager to see how you’ve improved.”

Laurent glared at him for a fraction of a moment. _ Lies _ .

His expression became neutral. “Very well. I accept your challenge.” He led them out, fully intending to race Damen into the ground and prove himself superior.

* * *

One of Auguste’s guards agreed to judge their race. They would make a single lap around the castle. It was so simple that even a barbarian could follow.

Since Laurent had no intention of shaming Irodocia, he allowed her the inside starting position, which would give her an advantage until they reached the courtyard.

There was a count of three, and they were off.

Laurent quickly took the lead. It was a short race, and so he didn’t need to worry about pacing his horse.

After the first turn, Damen began to catch up. Laurent was honed into the feeling of him, the sound of his horse, the heat of his body. Damen’s calls for speed sounded like they were being spoken directly into Laurent’s ear.

He pushed his horse further as they rounded the second turn. Servants ran from them, though they weren’t in the racer’s path.

Laurent created more distance between them. His horse only needed the smallest movement to understand his orders. He ran a hand over her neck to encourage her.

As they rounded the third turn so close to the wall Laurent could have reached out and touched it, there was almost a full seconds distance between them. Laurent fought the urge to look back, knowing it would slow him. He could be patient when he knew victory was within his grasp.

As he rounded the final corner, seeing the guard waiting for them, his breathing was as heavy as his horses. He was so close to crushing Damen beneath his boot.

Laurent leaned forward, a sign to his horse that the end was near, and she picked up to full speed.

They crossed the finish line, the guard cheered, and laurent sat up, his horse slowing to a trot.

He turned her around to face Damen with a smug smile and upturned nose, and realised with some shame how quickly he’d forgot Irodocia riding with them.

He stopped before them and dismounted, followed by Damen.

“I admit, I had my doubts when I saw how small your mare his.”

Laurent pet her nose, turning away from Damen. “She’s built for speed, and she’s smart.” He smiled, thinking of how easy it was to train her, and how difficult it was to gain her trust. “She can outrun and outmaneuver any horse in Vere and Akielos.”

“I suppose it is fortunate that her rider is much the same.”

He gripped the horse's reins, and she looked to him, unsure what this instruction meant. She snuffed his hair, nosing him.

He ran his hand over her nose and looked to Damen. “Yes, it is.” He turned to Irodocia, his expression warming. “An impressive race. You certainly are the force my brother promised.”

She raised a brow and smirked. “I see he’s not one for exaggeration.”

Laurent heard the familiar sound of double meaning in her tone. He watched her as she turned to Damen to give him a hug. He would have to find out what Auguste had told her later that night.

* * *

After grooming his horse thoroughly, Laurent spent the day showing Irodocia the grounds while Damen tagged along.

He was not oblivious to Damen’s flirting; how could anyone be? Damen was sure in everything he did, and nothing more so than in fighting and love. Why would he be when he knew he would win?

But he’d never had an opponent like Laurent. Maybe five years ago he would have fallen into those overly large arms. Maybe even a year ago. But he was different now.

* * *

Damen cornered him in his rooms after dinner while Laurent waited for Auguste to finish his work for the night. He strolled in slowly, his posture casual, but still strong. Laurent wondered if he ever had a moment of weakness.

Damen looked around the room slowly, taking it all in. He was smiling, as he had since arriving two days before, like the world was nothing but pleasant.

Laurent’s chest felt hot. That smile, in Laurent’s personal space, felt like a slap. He wanted to take that happiness away.

Damen’s eyes landed on the book on Laurent’s desk. He picked it up, turning it over, and smiled.

Laurent’s eyes widened for a moment, his breath short, until he realised that the cover was too clean.

Damen held it up, it looked too small in his hands. “You still have it.” He sounded pleased.

“That was a present from Irodocia.”

Damen’s face fell. “I suppose that makes sense. With so many books to read, you wouldn’t keep one for five years.”

Laurent’s face felt warm, but he kept it passive. “Why are you here?”

Damen moved closer to him, until only two yards separated them, less than Laurent had allowed since their race. “I came to check on you. You don’t seem well.”

Laurent held his gaze. “You mean I’m not fawning all over you like I used to. Does that surprise you?”

Damen paused, watching him. “No. You’re no longer a boy.”

Damen’s gaze passed over Laurent’s body. The air grew tense. Laurent’s chest and face were hot. He struggled to keep his breathing even.

Laurent snapped his book shut, getting to his feet. He closed the distance between them, getting into Damen’s face, standing on his toes to make up for some difference in height. “I am not,” he spoke through clenched teeth, “one of your conquests.”

Damen took a step back, his mouth open. “I didn’t-”

“Didn’t you?”

Damen stalled, staring at him. Laurent expected - hoped, maybe - for him to finish his contradiction.

“I’m sorry.”

Laurent’s chest ached.

“I shouldn’t have come on so strong. I’m sorry.”

Laurent turned away from him, swallowing. “I know about you. I know your reputation.”

“That’s not what’s happening here.”

Laurent gripped the bedpost. “Do not lie to me.”

Damen stepped toward him. “I’m not.”

Laurent turned to him, his face passive. “Really? Then what is this exactly? Are you courting me?”

Damen lifted his hand part way, then stopped, glancing at it like he was unsure what he was doing with it. “I had meant to.”

Laurent set his jaw. He took a very deep breath in through his nose, unable to get enough air. “And what of the Lady Jocaste?”

Damen looked as if he’d been slapped across the face. He let out a shaking breath.

It felt good to finally strike a real blow against him. Laurent almost smiled. “I thought so.”

“Jocaste,” the name came out thick, “was having an affair with my brother.”

Laurent’s hand fell to his side. He stared at Damen’s flushed face. “I didn’t know.”

“Most people don’t.” He steadied himself on the desk. “It’s been a few weeks.”

Laurent bit his lip. “I’m sorry.”

Damen smiled. It didn’t have any of it’s usual cockiness. “Thank you.”

A slowly growing intensity filled the room, forcing Laurent back a step. He took as deep a breath as he could subtly manage. “I think you should leave.”

Damen held Laurent’s gaze for a very long moment before he glanced to the floor. “Good night.”

As soon as the door shut, Laurent fell onto his bed, his arm wrapping around the post. He took a loud breath, stretching his sore lungs.

That was serious courting. Damen wanted Laurent. Damen.

He pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Colours burst in them. He took another breath.

Laurent didn’t want Damen, not anymore. He didn’t want- whatever this was. 

He covered his mouth with both hands, biting down the corners of his lips.

In a single motion Laurent stood and strode out of his room, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

 

Laurent stood in front of Auguste’s desk, his arms crossed, waiting for him to look up.

Finally he did, placing his glasses on his desk, rubbing his face with both hands. “Okay, what’s wrong?”

“Why didn’t you tell me about Jokaste and Kastor?”

Auguste sat up. “How did you find out about that?”

“I just unintentionally threw it in his face.”

Auguste leaned toward him, his arms on the desk. “And you wouldn’t have if you’d known?”

Laurent started.

Auguste sighed, his shoulders slouching. “I didn’t think it was something you needed to know. I thought it would give you hope, and that you would get hurt again.”

Laurent looked down, trying to hide his face, and the emotions that were forcing their way through in the safety of Auguste’s presence. “You still should have told me.”

“You’re right. It’s hard to remember that you’re an adult now.” He closed his eyes, taking a breath. “I will try to be more honest with you in the future. I’m sorry.”

Laurent bit his lip to force it to stop quivering. “He’s trying to court me.” He wasn’t sure if Auguste had heard him. He could hardly hear himself.

“What do you want to do?”

“What are you talking about?” Laurent’s hands dropped to his sides. “I want him to stop. I hate him.” He glared at the ground in front of his feet. His heart pounded in his throat. “I’m glad she did it.”

Auguste moved around the desk, putting his hands on Laurent’s shoulders, leaning down so they were closer to the same height. “I know you’re still hurting. Childhood scars cut deeper than any other. But this is your chance to heal.” He brought his hands up to cup Laurent’s face. “Promise me you will take it, that you will try.”

Laurent took a breath that shook his entire body. He pulled away from Auguste, taking several steps back and turning around. He hugged himself. His breaths were heavy and loud, willing back the tears that pooled in his eyes. “I need to think about this.”

“Of course.” Auguste put a hand on his back. “Stay here until you’ve calmed down. I’m going to see Irodocia.”

Auguste left, closing the door gently with a last look at Laurent, who wouldn’t meet his eyes.

Laurent stood there for a long while, looking randomly atthings, his thoughts going every which way.

Slowly he moved to his brother’s chair, falling into it. He pressed his palms flat on the desk, grounding his thoughts.

Damen liked him. Damen liked him. Damen liked Laurent.

He pressed his palms down so his arms shook, stopping the thoughts and the unwelcome bubble of childish excitement. That was only the part of him that clung to the attention he’d once received.

Auguste was right, this hole in his chest needed to go.

The only thing that had caused him any relief was that moment of pain on Damen’s face when Jokaste was brought up. He’d enjoyed seeing Damen in pain. He’d enjoyed causing him pain. He wanted to hurt him more.

He stood slowly, his legs shaking.

He left to find Damen.

* * *

 

Laurent pushed the door to Auguste’s room open just enough to slip inside.

He leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, trying not to pull into himself. He watched the small group. They all looked so comfortable together.

Laurent couldn’t help hoping, for a moment, that he would be invited to join.

He stared at Damen, drawing his attention. He held his eyes for an extra second, and walked out. Slowly he made his down the corridor, listening for the heavy, even stride that belonged to Damen. When he did, his heart gave a hard beat, then another with every step.

He turned into his room, leaving the door cracked. He leaned his back on the bedpost, holding his breath as he waited for Damen to walk in.

Laurent only just thought that this was a bad idea when his door opened.

Damen had a simple smile on his face as he looked at Laurent. If he’d really been upset before, if admitting that he couldn’t keep Jokaste satisfied on his own really had shaken him, he didn’t show it now. Perhaps he really was too simple for anything to really matter to him.

Laurent lifted his chin. “Sit.”

Damen did so, looking as if the very idea of listening to Laurent’s orders was a game.

“I know your interest in me is purely a physical one.”

Damen made to argue, but Laurent held his hand up. “No, it is. It started immediately when you saw me, and I know what this kind of attraction looks like.”

He let that sink in, let Damen realise that he wasn’t the only one who wanted Laurent.

“I am not a toy to be played with.”

Damen stood. “I wouldn’t.”

“Sit.”

He did, this time with no amusement.

“I know all about your reputation of tumbling any woman you find attractive, as well as how those women look. I also know that you have never really been serious about anyone before.” He paused. “Do you deny it?”

“Jokaste-”

“Yes, Jokaste. You were together for, what? Three years?” Laurent examined his nails. “That must be eating at you. Is that why you’re pursuing me? To distract yourself? Am I some game to you?”

“No, that’s not-” Damen stood, but didn’t move toward Laurent. “You are not a distraction.”

Laurent watched him for a very long while, letting time stretch. Only when he could see it visibly affecting Damen did he speak. “Then what am I?”

Damen took a deep breath, looking over Laurent’s features. “You are quick-witted, harsh, sly, cold, calculating.”

Laurent raised a brow. “Is this supposed to endear me to you?”

“Intelligent, kind, generous, innocent.” He stepped slowly toward Laurent. “Hardworking, earnest, honest.” He stopped just in front of Laurent, smiling down at him. “You are beautiful.”

Damen touched Laurent’s cheek with the back of his fingers, and Laurent felt how hot they were.

Laurent placed his hand on Damen’s chest, his fingers slipping under his chiton, feeling his heart race. He looked away from Damen’s brown eyes for just a moment to see his pale hand against Damen’s deep brown chest, broader than he remembered. An alarm went off in his head, but he ignored it. “Then, Damianos, you have one week to prove to me that you are earnest in your attentions toward me.” He looked back up at Damen’s face, keeping his head down, and felt the way Damen’s heart skipped. He smirked. “If you can, then you will have my permission to court me.”

Damen took his hand, holding it to his chest. His smile was so warm and honest, so unlike anything Laurent had seen directed his way before. He brought Laurent’s hand to his lips and kissed it, lingering.

Slowly, gently, he drew Laurent toward him, sliding his hand around Laurent’s waist. He leaned down, kissing his cheek, just in front of his ear. “I look forward to it, Your Highness.”

Damen’s warm breath made him shiver despite himself. “I haven’t given you permission yet.”

Damen chuckled and stepped back, releasing everything except Laurent’s hand, where he laced their fingers together. “One week.” He squeezed Laurent’s hand and released it.

“You may begin tomorrow. For now I wish to retire.”

Damen stayed where he was, watching Laurent with that smile.

“Well? You’re not invited.”

Damen laughed. “I’m only taking in this moment to hold onto.”

With a contented sigh and another long look at Laurent, he went to the door. “Good night.”

Laurent didn’t respond. He waited until the door was closed and went to his wardrobe.

Tomorrow Damen would begin to chase him, to want him. If Laurent played his cards right, he would have Damen hopelessly and pitifully in love with him before the wedding.

Then Laurent could tear his heart out and crush it. He could destroy Damen so he could never love anyone again.

He let out a breath and smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never ridden a horse.


	4. Trial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reason I haven't posted this chapter before now, despite that I wrote it back in October, is because the first scene is awful, and I haven't been able to fix it while keeping the the plotpoint I'm introducing. So I've decided to just deal with the fact that it sucks and move on. Sorry.

Auguste marched into Laurent’s room the next morning more than an hour before he usually woke. “What are you planning?”

Laurent groaned and turned onto his stomach, stretching. He made vague talking sounds into his pillow.

“Laurent, why is Damen chattering on about courting you?”

With a jilt in his chest Laurent sat up, throwing his covers down. The rush woke him, and he remembered the night before. He fell back onto the bed and pulled the blanket over his head.

“Laurent, I’m not playing around. Damen is talking about actual courting and seems to think you want this.”

With an over dramatic sigh, Laurent got up and went to pull on his robe. He went to the hall and called for a bath to be drawn.

“I told Damianos that he can court me if he proves he’s serious in one week.”

Auguste searched his face for further explanation. “Does this mean you’ve forgiven him?”

“No. I will never forgive him.” Laurent’s composure broke for a moment before he fixed himself. “I’m going to use him.”

“Excuse me?”

Laurent sat at his vanity and began to slowly brush his hair. “I’m going to make him fall in love with me, and then I’m going to break his heart.”

Auguste was silent, staring at Laurent’s reflection in the mirror. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

“Laurent, that’s just cruelty. You’re not cruel.”

Laurent’s motions didn’t slow. “You told me to do what I need to to heal. I won’t be able to do that until I know he hurts the same way I did.”

“Have you considered telling him what happened? I’m sure he would feel awful at knowing what he did hurt you.”

“No!” Laurent slammed the brush down. “And don’t you dare tell him either. You promised you wouldn’t. You swore!”

Auguste held his hands up. “I won’t. But I still think you should. I think keeping it to yourself is why you’re still holding onto it.”

Laurent stormed over to the other side of the room, not heading for anything. His body felt hot, like he would combust at any moment.

“Laurent, this is a terrible idea. You know it.” Auguste moved slowly over to him. “You will regret hurting Damen.”

Laurent turned to him. “Then you tell him.” His voice was cold, barely controlled. He wanted to throw and break something.

Auguste sighed. He sat down on Laurent’s desk. “I’m not going to tell Damen.” He looked exhausted. For the first time Laurent noticed the bags under his eyes. “But only because I know you will come to your senses and do the right thing.”

Laurent’s shaking limbs stilled. He took several breaths, and stood up straight. “Then, if you’ll excuse me.”

He left Auguste in the room and went to bathe and get ready for the day.

* * *

Laurent saw Damen’s first attempt when he returned to his rooms after breakfast. Someone had apparently moved the entire garden into his main room. Flowers covered every surface. The servants must have made quick work to finish in time.

Laurent took the ones from his bed and fed them to the fire. Honestly, was Damen’s intention to force Laurent out by making his room uninhabitable?

The next attempt was to fit Laurent’s horse with all new gear. She had silver horse shoes; a cushioned, gold lined saddle; and a new leather bridle. When had he had time to commission it?

Beside his plate at lunch was a book of poetry Laurent had already read. It was a good one.

His hideaway had been gutted and replaced with a soft cushion of royal blue, with a side table and a curtain for privacy.

And, yes, Laurent did enjoy this gift. It was a vast improvement on the pile of pillows he’d tossed on the wooden bench that would constantly fall every time he moved.

He almost jumped at the sound of someone -- Damen -- clearing his throat behind him.

“Do you like it?”

Laurent laced his fingers behind his back and turned to face Damen. “I do. Your servants did a good job.”

Damen’s face froze, like he was unsure what expression to change it to. “My servants?”

“Yes. Your servants did everything you told them to.” Laurent sat, crossing his legs. “I see now that the rumours that you’ve never had to try before are true.”

Damen’s face fell as Laurent spoke, spurring him on.

“I admit, I was hoping to see what you could really do. I’m a bit disappointed.” He sighed, leaning back. “That’s okay, though. You did your best.” He almost smiled at Damen’s confused, defeated expression. “Would you do me a favour and have one of your servants tell Auguste I won’t be at dinner?”

He closed the curtain on Damen’s shocked face.

* * *

There was nothing from Damen the entire next day. In fact, Laurent didn’t see him once after breakfast, where he’d asked how Laurent had slept, then walked out.

Still Laurent looked for the small gifts around every corner, and found himself a little more disappointed with every door he opened.

Had Damen given up already? Was Laurent really not worth a little bit of teasing?

He sat at his vanity that night, his face lit by two small candles, looking over his features.

Laurent was beautiful. He wouldn’t play at false modesty. It had been the one thing everyone could agree on. As soon as he’d turned seventeen people began to pelt him with compliments to his hair, eyes, skin, lips, his slender form, and his long neck.

He’d been holding out hope, however, that he had something else to offer. But it would seem not. If he had, every sutor wouldn’t run the moment he opened his mouth.

Auguste knocked on Laurent’s door, cracking it open. Laurent glanced at his reflection for a moment before turning back to his own.

“I thought you were mad at me.”

Auguste moved to stand behind him. “I’m not mad.” He began to brush Laurent’s hair. I think you will regret this once you’re done and I’m worried about what it will do to both you and Damen.”

“Well, you will be glad to know it’s over then.” Laurent’s voice was flat. “Damianos gave up yesterday.”

Auguste’s hands stopped. “He gave up?”

“Yes. As it turns out, even my pretty face can’t make up for what comes out of my mouth.”

Auguste watched Laurent’s reflection for a few seconds before he continued brushing his hair. “I don’t think he’s given up.”

Laurent’s heart skipped, though he pushed the light feeling down. “He has, or he wouldn’t have avoided me all day.”

“Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

Auguste listened patiently while Laurent explained every unimportant detail of the entire day.

He hummed when Laurent finished, his eyes misty. “That hardly sounds like something that could scare Damen off, even if you were only half as beautiful as you are. He’s almost as stubborn as you.” He smiled at Laurent’s reflection. “Likely he won’t give up until you tell him to.”

Laurent looked down, his neck warm.

A knock came a few minutes later, and Auguste went to answer. Laurent’s heart picked up, thinking it might be Damen.

But it was Irodocia’s voice that made him turn around. “I’m here to check on Laurent. He didn’t seem well today.”

Laurent interrupted Auguste’s excuse that he was time. “You may come in.”

Auguste gave him a curious look as he stepped aside for her.

“Are you all right?” She moved to stand behind him, where Auguste had just been. “You were in such high spirits yesterday.”

He looked up at her, tall, with Damen’s eyes and colouring, and wondered if her concern was only as Auguste’s brother. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

She grabbed another chair and pulled it up beside him, leaning forward in it. “You’re not. Is it because of Damen?”

Laurent blinked, unused to this level of blunt honesty. “Is this an Akielon trait?”

She smiled. “Some of us more than others.”

She waited as Laurent considered his answer. “We have an agreement.”

“That he has one week to prove his feelings in order to court you. Yes, he told me.”

Laurent swallowed past the lump in his throat. He found he didn’t like keeping this secret from her. “He’s given up.”

She sat up, her eyes surprised. She pressed her lips together and glanced at Auguste. “But he was so excited. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him so taken by anyone.”

“Yes, I know he finds me attractive.”

Irodocia was still looking at Auguste, her face flushed.

Laurent’s eyes widened. “You know something.”

She stood up, striding back to the door, stopping just behind Auguste. “I think you should put this worry out of your mind for tonight, and talk to Damen tomorrow. Good night.”

Laurent stood. “Wait-” But her skirts had already disappeared and her footsteps were growing quiet.

Auguste grinned. “She likes you.”

Laurent’s heart was pounding. Damen hadn’t given up? Was he planning something? Laurent looked to Auguste for some sort of clarity, but Auguste only shrugged.

Laurent fell back into his chair, breathing deeply. He bit his lip. He wanted to smile.

Auguste came over to him and kissed the top of his head. “Get some sleep. It’s almost morning.”

Laurent watched him as he left, not really seeing him. His mind was racing as quickly as his heart. What could Damen be planning? He dismissed scenarios as quickly as they came, but it only brought on more absurd ideas until he was imagining things he hadn’t thought about since he was fifteen. He flushed red, his head light, and blew out his candles.

* * *

It was mid-morning when Laurent woke. It had taken him almost an hour to fall asleep the night before. His body flushed with shame. This was not part of his plan.

He ordered something small to be sent to him for breakfast, and proceeded to get ready for the day.

He was surprised to find on his tray a crudely picked flower with its stem broke instead of neatly clipped, and a folded note with two words sprawled in a child-like messy script; “good morning.”

He realised it immediately from a year’s worth of letters. His heart raced. Damen hadn’t given up on him. The game was still on. But what an odd decision for a man who’s best attempt two days before was to treat him like a pet.

He tossed the items haphazardly onto his desk and ate his breakfast.

When he went to the stables for his morning ride, he found another flower and a note on his saddle; “Have a safe ride.”

Laurent helped Auguste with his paperwork in the afternoon. He always let the less important stuff pile up while he was in Akielos, and was overwhelmed when he got him. So Laurent stopped by a few times a week to help thin it out.

(Auguste wasn’t aware of the work Laurent did while he was away.)

Auguste smiled at him as he picked up another stack of papers and brought it to his assistants desk. “Have I told you how much I love that you’re so smart? And how much I appreciate you?”

“You could to to mention it more.”

Auguste laughed. “I’ll make a note of that.”

There was a minute of silence and the sounds of papers and pens. Auguste sighed and leant back. “Sometimes I think I’m not cut out for this position.”

“You’re perfectly cut out for it. Hating part of a job doesn’t mean you’re not good at it.”

“I think I’d like to be a layabout. That sounds fun.”

“But then someone else would have to be king, and you’re too good to leave your Kingdom to someone else.”

“I’d leave the kingdom to you.”

Laurent’s hands didn’t slow at the comment. He kept himself steady, continued to work. “I’m good at paperwork, Auguste. That doesn’t mean I should make decisions that affect our entire country.”

Auguste chuckled, turning back to his stack of paperwork. It was a moot point. Auguste was king, and anything else was only pretend.

Irodocia strolled in and up to Auguste, who lit up at the sight of her. She gave him a quick kiss, flushing as she glanced at Laurent.

“What’s that.” Auguste reached for her hand, but she pulled it away.

“Not for you, sorry.” Irodocia handed the folded up piece of paper to Laurent, which he now recognised. Her lips were pressed together to hide a grin that still poked through in the corners as he opened and read it.

Damen had switched to Akielon, a test to Laurent’s skill. He wrote, “come to the garden.”

Laurent looked to the window. It was almost dusk. Why should Laurent wander, alone, outside? Maybe he should leave Damen alone and just go to bed.

He looked up at Irodocia, who wasn’t even pretending not to watch him. Auguste may have known that this was just a game, but she didn’t. She probably knew what the letter said, too.

Repressing a sigh, Laurent stood. “I’ll be right back.”

Irodocia was pleased pink as he left.

* * *

The garden was always beautiful at night. Laurent used to sneak away when it emptied to just sit and think. But tonight it was lit by candles in glass spheres. They made a path around and under a willow, which Lauret followed to find Damen on a blanket, with and array of foods.

It was intimate and sweet. Crickets buzzed around them. Laurent saw a firefly flicker behind Damen’s head.

His heart beat fast, his pulse in his neck. This was not the sort of thing Laurent was used to. It was private, hidden by the darkness and the leaves, where Laurent had expected something crude and flashy. A hand on his waist, fingers running up his arm, lips pressed to his ear. Something public Laurent couldn’t avoid. He’d expected to be cornered in his library or room again.

Instead Damen had called Laurent to him, left Laurent’s back to the open so he could leave with no fuss. The activity was innocent. There was a lot of room on the blanket, food separating them. There wasn’t even any alcohol that Laurent could see. And they weren’t too far from the guards, where no Akielon would ever try to consummate.

Laurent crossed his arms, looked to Damen for the first time. “Which of your servants do I owe this surprise to?”

Damen seemed to expect his barbs this time. He smiled. “Only one of your cooks for the meal.”

Laurent glanced back at the path. “You did all of this on your own?”

“It was supposed to be more elaborate, but I didn’t have time.” Damen sounded shy, but didn’t look it. “I know you said not to court you until you’ve given me permission, but I couldn’t think of anything else that I could do on my own. I hope it’s not too much.’

Laurent looked at the cushion that Damen had laid out for him with a small blanket in case he got cold, a needless gesture for such a warm summer night. “Is this what being courted by you would look like?”

“Close to this. I wouldn’t be so reserved.”

“Tell me.”

Damen’s smile widened. “Come and sit.”

“You’re making demands now?”

“I’d like to have a conversation instead of an interrogation.”

Damen waited as Laurent thought. Should he continue to make this difficult for him? How much resistance would Damen take? He’d already endured more than Laurent’s other suitors.

But most importantly, what would attract Damen most?   
Damen’s eyes began to reveal how unsure he was the longer the silence stretched. He thought Laurent would refuse. If he did, would Damen give up? He’d been given a week, but he’d made his best attempt this early. This was it.

Laurent moved slowly forward, letting the leaves fall and hide them completely. His heart pounded as he moved steadily forward. He reminded himself that he only needed to yell and the guards would come running, but also that he wouldn’t need to yell. Nothing would happen with Damen.

Laurent was sure he hadn’t revealed just how much he was shaking as he looked over at Damen, ow just above his eye level. “Well?”

Damen held a plate of cheeses to Laurent, who took one but didn’t eat it. “You want to hear what I would do to make you fall in love with me?”

“To try to make me fall in love with you, yes. I’d like to know if I should begin avoiding you now.”

Damen grinned like he was about to start laughing. “I hope you don’t avoid me at all.”

“Are you avoiding the question?”

Damen stretched out lazilly, leaning back on his elbows so his skirt pulled up. Laurent kept his eyes on his face. “I would start by talking to you, every moment. I would learn you; your voice, your eyes, the way your lips make certain words. I would watch you. Your every movement would become familiar to me. Slowly I would touch you. My fingers would graze your hand, your arm, your shoulder, casually. Eventually we would kiss.”

Laurent had unconsciously leant into Damen, his breath shallow. He swallowed.

“I would make sure every night looked like this, with candles and quiet. I would steal you away whenever I could; behind curtains, under stairs, here.” Damen touched the tree, smiling, his cheeks flushed.

Laurent could picture himself vividly, pressed against the tree by Damen’s body. He could almost feel the kisses Damen would give him. He held his breath to hide the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

“Eventually I will take you to your bed, where I would kiss you-”

“Stop.” Laurent’s voice broke. His face was red, his head light. He closed his eyes. He couldn’t look at Damen. “I don’t want to hear any more.”

“I’m sorry.” Damen’s voice was quick. Laurent felt him sit up. “I overstepped my bounds.”

“No, you’re fine.” Laurent’s voice was a breath. “I-” His throat burned. He swallowed. “I liked it.”

Damen was still for a moment. He took a ragged breath. “Must I wait for the week to end? I will, if you need me to. But I would like to start courting you now.” He moved closer to Laurent. “I will march to your father’s room now and get his permission. I’ll do whatever he asks for it.”

“My brother is king.” The words came out easy, but they felt ripped from him. “You need his permission to court anyone in our family.”

Damen stared at him. “Is that a yes?”

Laurent took a deep breath. “Yes.”

Damen stood up, walked around to Laurent, and knelt in front of him in what looked like one fluid movement. He ran his hand down Laurent’s arm, cupping his wrist. He kissed Laurent’s fingers, his hand. “Is Auguste still awake?”

Laurent nodded. He couldn’t get enough air to speak.”

Damen stared into his eyes, smiling. It wasn’t cocky, just… happy? “Let’s go.” He pulled Laurent to his feet, wrapping an arm around his waist to keep him from stumbling.

Laurent looked down at Damen’s chest, which didn’t help. He wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He was supposed to be in control. He closed his eyes and took a breath. “What happened to getting permission right now?”

Damen twisted a lock of Laurent’s hair around his finger. “I just didn’t want this moment to end.”

Laurent put a hand on Damen’s chest and pushed lightly. “It’s over.”

Damen’s smiled broadened. “You’re right. Let’s go see Auguste.”


	5. First Attempt

Auguste stared at Damen kneeling in front of him. He glanced to Laurent, wide eyed. Evidently he’d neglected to consider is minor part in this rouse.

Laurent held Auguste’s eyes, keeping his face as impassive as he could manage.

“I understand your concern.” They both looked to Damen as he spoke. “We are friends, but your little brother always comes first.” He smiled at Laurent, then turned back to Auguste, as serious as Laurent had ever seen him. “You have my word that I will work my entire life to keep him happy.”

Laurent’s lips tightened into almost nothing. Damen looked so sure. What a pompous, ignorant, oblivious, cruel, arrogant-

He looked back to Auguste, who has sweat enough or Laurent to see. A wave of heat brushed over him. He should have lied and said that he was really forgiving Damen. But how could he lie to Auguste? On the rare occasion he did think to do so, he was so poor at it that he was caught instantly.

He gave a quick, small nod. Best to get it over with.

Auguste took a deep, chest raising breath. “Do you plan to court my brother, the second prince of Vere, in seriousness, with the intent to marry him?”

Damen’s reply was instant. “I do.”

This pained Auguste, who had apparently been hoping Damen only wanted an affair. Damen apparently took it as him being protective of Laurent.

“I will not overstep my bounds, or push Laurent past where he’s comfortable. I will listen when he expresses himself. I will do whatever he wishes of me. You have my word.”

Auguste swallowed. “And if he wishes to end the courtship?”

Laurent glared at him.

“Then it will end, and he will hear no more on the subject from me.”

That answer bothered Laurent, though it was exactly what he’d wanted from the start. What could he possibly be dissatisfied with?

Auguste was all stiff movements, like a marionette, as he stood and moved slowly around his desk. He looked as if he were at a council meeting, ready to argue half the court in circles. Laurent thought, as Auguste so blatantly avoided his eyes, that he would say no.

He held out his hand and helped Damen to his feet. “If you keep your word, never step out of bounds, or bring harm to my brother, you have my permission to court him.”

Damen beamed and clapped a hand on Auguste’s shoulder before turning to Laurent and sweeping him up in a hug. “Finally I can begin.”

Laurent put a hand on Damen’s chest and pushed him lightly away. “Tomorrow you can begin. It’s late and Auguste looks like he wants to speak with me.”

With a pout, Damen released him, stepping back. He said goodnight to Auguste, then, quickly, kissed Laurent’s cheek and strode from the room.

Auguste fell back to sit on his desk, burying his face in his hands. “Laurent, I’m begging you. Don’t do this.”

“I’m sorry.” Laurent crossed his arms tightly, hunching forward. “That was the only thing I needed you to do.”

“No, it’s not.” Auguste let his hands fall to the desk with a knock, resting them limply. “I have to keep pretending that I don’t know what’s really happening. I have to lie to Damen, and Irodocia, and to everyone.”

Laurent had no words for the guilt that burned in his chest. What was worse was that he couldn’t even say he hadn’t predicted it. Auguste had always put Laurent first, even above himself.

“I’m asking you again.” Auguste moved to stand in front of Laurent. “Don’t do this. I can tell you still have feelings for Damen. Just let things happen naturally.”

“I don’t trust him.” Laurent took a step back so he could look up at Auguste easier. “Everything between us - every interaction, every word, every look - was a lie. How could I trust anything he says or does?”

Auguste pursed his lips. “So you’re choosing to become a liar as well?”

Laurent bit back his barbed retort. This was Auguste. He didn’t lose his temper with Auguste. “If that’s what it takes to set things right, then yes.”

“Oh, amoureux. This won’t set anything right.”

Laurent turned away. “It’s something at least.”

Auguste sighed, his shoulders slumping. “It certainly is.”

* * *

Laurent woke slowly. He felt the warmth of the noon sun on his back.

Slowly, as his mind struggled to go back to sleep, he wondered how he’d managed to sleep so long. Usually the natural sounds of the castle woke him by mid-morning at the latest.

He rolled onto his back, taking a deep breath for a yawn. He stayed like that, soaking in the sun. He still felt like he was in a dream.

Laurent allowed himself a few minutes of this. As much as he wanted a day just to lay about, he knew better. He was still a monarch.

When he left his room, he saw only the single pair of guards that stood outside his door.

“Where is everyone?”

“Under orders to avoid this hall, your Highness,” Said Alexis, a young, broad man.

Eustache, an older man who still acted as if he were thirty tried to bite back a grin, giving an answer to Laurent’s next question.

“Thank you, Alexis. How is your daughter?”

Alexis beamed. “She turns seventeen a week before your brother, the King’s wedding. She couldn’t be more thrilled at the timing.”

“Good. I’m glad the occasion won’t be overshadowed.”

“No, Your Highness. We’re planning a small party for her that won’t interfere with the wedding.”

“I bet Isaure‘s happy she’s finally seventeen.” Eustache winked.

Laurent left them to their chat and went to find Damen.

He had to check a few spots, but eventually found him at the stables.

Laurent leaned against the door, watching Damen attend to his horse for almost a minute before being noticed.

Damen turned all of his attention to Laurent. “Good morning.”

“My father might have your head for helping me to shirk my duties.”

“I’ll keep that in mind as I continue doing so. Have you eaten?”

“It’s so close to lunch, I decided to wait."

Damen tossed him an apple. “Eat that to tide yourself over and mount your horse.”

Laurent saw that she was ready to ride, and wondered if Damen had prepared her himself, or a servant. “Where exactly are we going?”

Damen’s lip quirked, revealing the dimple Laurent used to stare at while he talked. Now Laurent kept his eyes focused on Damen’s. “It’s a surprise.”

Laurent grimaced. He hated surprises. He mounted the horse and followed Damen.

Laurent tensed when he saw that they were leaving the castle grounds, and his horse responded, stalling.

Damen steered his horse back to Laurent’s side. “What is it?”

Laurent kept his eyes on the gates. “We’re leaving?”

“That was my intention. Why? Do you not want to?”

Had there been a hint of a jeer in Damen’s voice? It wouldn’t have been out of place with Laurent’s experiences with him. Damen had always pushed him into things he hated, goaded him, and, when that didn’t work, used his physical strength to force him. Would he do the same now? If he was seriously courting Laurent, then he would be forced to accept his refusal.

When Laurent looked at him, he saw a knowing in Damen’s eyes. Laurent would go.

And he did, but not because he really was so brave to leave the castle grounds for the first time without Auguste (and even that was from the back gate to avoid a spectacle), to face a sea of people he didn’t know; but because he refused to let his fear control him in front of Damen.

He gripped his horses reins and directed him forward.

Every head turned toward them, toward Damen. It was still unusual to see an Akielon this far into Vere, and they all knew exactly who Damen was. Mix that with his more than impressive mass and his good looks and they were all gawking worse than the people of the court. Most of them had never seen Laurent, but they knew exactly who he was, by virtue of his golden haired beauty, and his being next to Damen.

Laurent wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or insulted that his people were more interested in Damen than their own never before seen prince. He tried riding ahead to put some distance between them, but Damen kept pace with them, and the common people didn’t look like they could dodge a charging horse the way soldiers inside the castle did.

“How far are we going?”

Laurent forced his face to stay passive as Damen considered him.

“You really don’t like attention, do you?”

“I have no particular distaste for it.”

Damen hummed. “If you say so.”

Laurent sat up straight and his horse slowed. “Do you think I’m lying?”

Damen’s lips thinned as he thought. “I think you’re full of contradictions.”

Laurent stared at him until he continued.

“You say one thing, then do another. You’re perfectly composed, then the next moment you’re a mess. You’re emotional, but you would deny it at every opportunity.” Damen had moved closer to Laurent so their legs almost touched. “You like to be looked at, but only when you’re in control of how.”

“Aren’t you observant.” Laurent moved away from him. “What sort of praise would you like for your victory?”

“You don’t like feeling like you’ve lost, do you?”

Laurent glared at the empty space in front of him. “I don’t lose.”

“You can’t lose. Courting isn’t a competition.”

Laurent glanced at Damen. “Isn’t it?”

Damen was quiet for a moment. “Have you ever been in love?”

Laurent’s jaw tensed. “I thought I was once.”

“What happened?”

Laurent let the silence drag. “I didn’t stand a chance.”

Damen was quiet. Laurent waited for him to speak, to say anything. He realised exactly how useful his own silence was.

“I’m sorry.”

He gripped his reins so he could feel his pulse in his hands. “What for?”

“Because you were hurt. I’m sorry that happened.”

“It’s in the past.”

Damen came up beside him again. Carefully he reached for Laurent’s hand, easing it from the reins. He held it firm and gentle, running his thumb over Laurent’s pinkened knuckles.

Laurent expected some grand speech about how Damen would never hurt him, an ironic lie that would make Laurent want to shove him from his horse. Instead he was silent, just holding Laurent’s hand, Damen smiling softly at him.

Laurent was vaguely aware of their guards keeping a respectful distance, or that they’d stopped, or that the crowd around them had mostly dispersed.

He took his hand away.

It was too easy to get lost in this, in Damen. He’d spent so much time thinking about it, he could easily convince himself this was all a very real daydream.

He had to remember that this was indeed a competition. Laurent was not going to get swept up.

Laurent looked around, giving his pulse a moment to calm down. “Where are we?”

They’d made their way down a small street, several small streets by the looks of it, and Laurent could smell perfumes.

Damen dismounted and led Laurent to the door of a small, nice looking shop.

Laurent took a step back, his breath catching. “Is this a brothel?” He looked to his guards, who reacted to his panic, moving forward.

They stalled when Damen laughed, looking between him and Laurent, their hands on their swords.

“It’s a tea house. One-hundred percent respectable.” He knocked on the door.

A middle aged woman answered. She didn’t seem at all surprised to see a giant Akielon on her stoop. She motioned them in and led them to a very fine table beside the fireplace.

Laurent took the spot farthest from the fire to avoid getting burned. It was summer after all. “They were expecting us.”

Damen sat across from him. “I found out about this place from one of your maids. I had someone look at it. Then Auguste had someone look at it.”

“And how did you come to find out about this from my maid?”

“I asked her if she knew anywhere you might like to go.”

As per his reputation, Damen showed no hesitance in his confession that he had been openly bragging about their arrangement. Laurent would have to see how far his composure reached.

“Why a tea shop? Why not have tea in the drawing room?”

“I thought you might like to get away, go somewhere a bit more casual.”

A young woman in a beautiful dress came over to take their orders. Laurent could see how much favour they were receiving. The best table, the prettiest server, the best couches, pillows, and furs.

“Three-fourths rose, one fourth jazsmin, place three rose petals in the finished tea. I will sweeten it myself.”

Damen smiled at the girl, making her blush. “Oolong.”

She nodded and bowed before leaving.

Laurent leaned forward, lacing his fingers together. “You can’t help it, can you?”

“Help what?”

“Charming every woman you come into contact with.”

Damen grinned. “Thank you.”

The corner of Laurent’s lip twitched. “That wasn’t intended to be a compliment.”

“And yet it was.”

“Yes. I suppose so.”

“To answer your question; no, I can’t help it. No more than you can.”

“Excuse me?”

Damen leaned closer to Laurent. “That’s why you dislike balls so much, isn’t it? Because I can see you still love dancing."

Laurent pulled back. “How could you know how I feel about dancing?”

“I told you, didn’t I? The first step is to learn you.”

They were too close to the fire. “You didn’t have my permission then.”

Damen looked the most bashful Laurent had seen him, which was to say, not very. “In Akielos, we don’t need permission. If we’re told ‘no’, we stop. Otherwise, we proceed.”

Laurent’s throat felt tight. “You had planned to court me from the moment you got here?”

“Maybe not the first moment, but certainly the second.”

“So you didn’t intend to just bed me?”

The question, and Laurent’s brisque tone, made Damen flush. He looked around, squirming a bit, which was a peculiar reaction. “That was certainly part of it, but not all.”

Laurent’s heart raced. He looked for his guards, feeling light headed.

He felt an immediate wave of relief when he saw Jord, one of the men Auguste trusted most watching him like a hawk, ready to leap into battle. He was safe.

He didn’t look at Damen. “I don’t understand. The last time you saw me I was a child. Then you arrive here, see me, and just know you want to…” Laurent pushed his hand through his hair.

“I suppose when I saw you it just made sense that the boy I knew would become the man in front of me. I could see how your shyness became that reservation. You held your head high and kept your eyes forward. It was admirable.” Damen smiled at him in that way that directed ones eyes back to his. “It was obvious that your intellect and reasoning would have expanded as well. And I’ve seen every moment since how your kindness and honesty has grown.”

Laurent was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe.

Damen reached out and touched the tips of Laurent’s hair. “We have time to figure this out. You don’t have to be convinced yet. Just allow me to prove it to you.”

Laurent took a shaking breath. He sat up straight, pulling out of Damen’s reach. “Wasn’t the first step you promised to get to know each other. You’re making a lot of assumptions about me.”

Damen’s hand hung in the air for a moment before he set it back on the table in front of him. “Right. So tell me about yourself.”

“What would you like to know?”

Damen’s lip twitched in Laurent’s periferal. “What’s your favourite colour?”

Laurent looked at him and Damen smiled. “That’s what you want to know?”

“How else will I know what gifts to give you?”

“And your gift ideas are, what, jewelry and dresses?”

Laurent nodded his thanks to the serving girl, who was trying to lock eyes with Damen. Damen, probably because of Laurent’s earlier comment, paid her no mind.

“Somehow I can’t see you appreciating jewelry much.”

“I appreciate jewelry fine.”

“Would you like some?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Do you ever just answer a question?”

Laurent smiled, holding Damen’s gaze. “Not often.”

Damen sipped his tea, watching Laurent empty a fifth spoon of honey into his cup. “At least I don’t need to ask if you like sweets.”

Laurent rolled his eyes and added a sixth spoon before stirring his tea. ”Auguste says it matches my personality. I told him that the sweetness balances out how tart I am.”

Damen Laughed, which drew the eyes of the other patrons who now had an excuse to stare. “I’ll let you know when I’ve decided who’s right.”

Laurent leaned back with his cup to his lips. He soaked in the moment of silence that passed, watching Damen, who also watched him. It was an easy moment, which made Laurent’s stomach tumble a little. This was too fast. The goal was to make Damen work for him, not throw himself at the man on day one. Laurent couldn’t be just another conquest.

“Was this all you had planned today?”

Damen’s brow quirked. “I was hoping we could use to day to talk.”

“Get step one out of the way.” He gave his words an annoyed lilt, though he kept his face pleasant.

Damen leaned forward, looking between Laurent’s eyes. “What do you think is happening here?”

Laurent tasted his tea before looking back at Damen. “We’re having an outing where you’re attempting to court me.”

Damen looked to Laurent’s spoon, filled with a seventh scoop of honey. “Have you ever been courted before?”

“Of course I have. We’ve already discussed this.”

“I don’t mean seduced. Not by someone trying to say the right things to get one night out of you. I mean honest courting. Two people seeing if they want to be together forever.”

Laurent’s motions stayed even as he kept his eyes on Damen’s. “I haven’t.”

“It’s not a chore list. When I told you what I had planned, that was just a guess. Love,” He smiled when Laurent’s hand stilled. “Doesn’t follow any rules. You can’t predict how it will affect you.”

Laurent took a sip of his tea, using it as an excuse to avert his eyes. He kept them down as he stirred in another spoon, Damen’s expression uncomfortable. His lips quirked for a half-second, his heart slowing down. “Blue.” He set his spoon down on his tea plate.

Damen looked back to his face. “What?”

“My favourite colour.” He tested his tea again and hummed. “It’s blue.”

Damen leaned toward Laurent, placing his chin on his palm. “Somehow that seems fitting.”

“And yours?”

“You want to know what my favourite colour is?”

“You’re not the only one shopping.”

Damen laughed in his chest, the sound weighted, like it was tangible. “Are you always this blunt? Is this something I need to get used to?”

“Yes. Answer my question.”

Damen took a long sip of tea, mimicking Laurent’s stalling. He set it down and tried to mimic his piercing, disinterested stare, chuckling at his own failure. “Green.”

“Not red?”

Damen tapped the side of his cup. “I like red in that it will always be a symbol of my country and its power. But I’ve always had a particular attraction to green. I don’t know why.”

Laurent traced the edge of his cup as he sorted through his words. “It’s a nurturing colour, and you’re a nurturing person.”

Damen blinked at him, his lips parted.

Laurent could see the question. “This has been apparent to me since I was fourteen.”

There was another question in the knit of Damen’s brow that Laurent couldn’t decipher, but he didn’t ask, which was just as well. Laurent no longer felt like small talk.

He finished his tea and set it on the edge of their table with just enough of a sound to draw the attention of their server. “This was a pleasant conversation. Thank you Damianos.” He looked to Jord and nodded, and they both stood.

Damen stared at him, his mouth opening with a question, then closing again. He downed his tea, throwing his head back, the muscles in his too thick neck and shoulders flexing. He left a few silver pieces for their bill, far more than their service was worth, and fell into step beside Laurent. “Your brother’s not expecting you for dinner.”

“I eat in my room most nights.”

“Wait.” Damen caught his arm, stopping him at the bottom of the steps outside.

Jord moved closer to them, but Laurent waved him back. “Yes?”

“I can’t tell if I’m doing something wrong unless you tell me.”

Damen’s grip didn’t hurt, but it was firm. Laurent could have pulled out of it, but not without a struggle and a scene. Then Jord would attack Damen, and that would cause a slew of trouble Laurent would have to get Jord out of, and he didn’t have the energy to deal with that today. Besides, Laurent knew that if he gave even the slightest hint of resistance, Damen would release him. Somehow that felt like the biggest defeat, letting Damen be the gentleman.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’ve done nothing wrong. I only want to go home, where no one is staring at me.”

Damen searched him for a contradiction, but found none, because Laurent was telling the truth. “Okay.” His hand slid down to Laurent’s wrist, holding it like they were holding hands. “Just please tell me next time. I don’t want this to be me against you.”

Laurent was suddenly exhausted, his limbs heavy, a slight headache starting above his eye. “Yes, all right.”

Damen gave his wrist a gentle squeeze, and released him, stepping back to let Laurent go first. It was awkward for both of them, Laurent always behind his brother, and Damen only ever behind his father. Even with Auguste they were almost always side by side.

Laurent wondered, as he mounted his horse, if Damen ever yielded behind Jokaste. He looked to Damen once he was settled on his horse. “I hope you know the way back, because none of this is familiar to me.”

Damen’s smile wasn’t easy. He still thought something was wrong. But he smiled nonetheless and led the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone has any comments or questions they want a response to, you can message me on my tumblr at leighonardo [subject to change]. I feel weird responding to comments on here for bizarre me reasons, but I'm always willing to respond there.


	6. Chapter 6

A week of dinners and rides and small talk began to wear on Laurent. He could see how it was disheartening to Damen as well. Every day that his smile grew more strained, Auguste’s pleading looks got harder to hide.

"Laurent, could you help me with some Veretian script?” Irodocia smiled at him over lunch on the seventh day.

The force of the “no” Laurent wanted to shout almost choked him. He didn’t want to have this conversation with her.

He smiled and set his unfinished meal aside. “Of course. Shall we?” He offered her his arm and led her to the library.

Perhaps for the first time Laurent wasn’t glad for her bluntness. She sat in his nook, straightened her skirt, and looked him in the eye. “What is happening between you and Damen?”

Laurent repressed a cringe, keeping his body as relaxed as he could manage. “What do you mean?”

Irodocia’s lip quirked. She tilted her head and waited.

Laurent sighed and sat down next to her. “I dislike being courted.”

“Oh?” She turned to face him.

He allowed himself to slouch lazily. “It feels more like work than I thought it would.”

Irodocia hummed, biting her lip. “That’s not right. Courting should be enjoyable for both of you. If neither of you are having fun, then something must be wrong.”

Laurent let out a soft breath. He’d already known how Damen had been feeling, but hearing it from Irodocia cut at him. “Perhaps this was a bad idea.”

Irodocia turned to him. “No, it wasn’t.” She pulled her leg up. “You two just need something different.”

Laurent sat up straight, his back against a wall. “What do you mean?”

“If you hate typical courting, then try something else.” She rolled her eyes at his blank face, even as he knew exactly what she was saying. “Court Damen.” She leant toward him. “Damen knows how to do what’s worked for him in the past, but you’re different. He’s completely lost with you.”

“You’re saying I should do something he doesn’t expect?”

Irodocia’s expression made it clear she wasn’t fooled by his simpleton act. “Find something that only you can do, and show him what he’s fighting for.”

Laurent flushed. Someone was fighting for him. “I see.”

Irodocia put a hand on his arm and gave it a squeeze. “Good luck, Laurenaki mou.” She flushed at the endearment, grinning like a child. She rushed off, and Laurent heard her giggle.

He fell back with a huff, his mind racing.

* * *

Laurent stayed up all night working out riddles, writing them on pieces of paper, then hiding them throughout the castle. The sky was grey with pre-dawn light when he cracked open Damen’s door, pressing a finger to his lips as the guards smirked at him knowingly.

He tiptoed up to Damen’s bed, freezing as he realised that the man slept naked. His eyes traveled over Damen’s body, snapping to the ceiling when the heat in his chest became too much.

The sealed note slipped from his hand when he focused on breathing. When it picked it back up, his hands were shaking.

Keeping his eyes to the wall, Laurent placed the note on the side table, and rushed from the room. His blush grew warmer at the mocking laughter of Damen’s guard echoing around him.

When Laurent managed to catch his breath, the sky was turning blue. He decided to go to the observation tower to wait for Damen.

As he lay on the cushions spread about the floor for stargazing, exhaustion made his body heavy.

He was sure he had time for a nap. He’d made fourteen riddles, leading Damen all over the castle grounds, hidden in bushes and nooks. It would take all day for him to finish.

* * *

Laurent blinked when something gentle touched his face. He became aware of a chill as the warm sun was blocked from his skin.

Damen sat beside him, leaning over him with a hand on the floor on Laurent’s other side. His fingers brushed Laurent’s cheek like a breeze.

Laurent smiled up at him before the skip of his heart made him realise this wasn’t a dream.

It was too late. Damen had seen, his own smile turning bright with hope.

Laurent sat up, rubbing his eye to hide his blush. He yawned. “What time is it?”

“Mid-afternoon."

Laurent blinked at him. “You finished early.”

Damen sat back, leaning on his arms so he could watch Laurent with as lazy an air as possible. “You went easy on me.”

“I didn’t account for your giant legs.”

Damen laughed. “I was surprised when I saw your note.” He picked up the first riddle from the loose stack beside him. “I almost didn’t recognise your writing.”

“It has been years.”

Damen watched him with a frown for a moment. “I wondered why you never returned my letters.” His voice was slow, like he knew he was treading on thin ice, though Laurent gave no sign of it aside from the stress in his shoulders. “I had thought we were friends.”

Laurent looked at the open sky in front of him. “I was a child. I had so much right in front of me, everything else felt like a fantasy.” Lies always had a weighted effect on his tongue, though he was usually fine with pushing through them. Now he fell silent.

He felt Damen’s eyes search his face. “And now?”

“Now?”

“Would you write me?”

Laurent turned his eyes away, uncomfortable that the answer he knew to give would be true, were he not currently manipulating the man. “Yes.”

Damen’s smile was relieved. “Good.” He closed his eyes, leaning his head back. His swallowed thickly.

“What?”

Damen took a breath. “I thought you’d decided this was a mistake.”

Laurent’s breath caught, and it hurt to hide it. He kept his eyes forward, unable to look at Damen’s earnest expression. “I was starting to think it was.”

There was a drawn out silence as Laurent searched for something to say.

Damen cleared his throat, then again. “Not anymore?”

Slowly Laurent shook his head.

Damen let out a shaking breath. “That’s good.”

Laurent couldn’t explain why this made him angry, and the confusion at his erratic emotions lately only added to the flame. “Why aren’t you tired of this yet? Why are you still putting up with me?”

Damen stared at him, holding his breath.

Laurent came back to his senses, pulling into himself.

Damen touched his cheek, making Laurent flinch, and paused. When Laurent didn’t pull away, he cupped his face with both hands. “I’m not putting up with you.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not.” His thumbs brushed Laurent’s cheeks. “You’ve just had a string of weak willed men after you.”

Laurent jut his chin out. “And you’re stronger?”

Damen smirked. “I am. First of all, I realise that you use derision when you’re embarrassed, not to shut me down.” His fingers slipped into Laurent’s hair. “When you want me to stop, you say so.”

Laurent stared at him, a comment bubbling up in his throat. It was sarcastic. He swallowed. His ears burned. He couldn’t think clearly with Damen touching him.

Damen glanced to his lips, and Laurent’s heart skipped.

Damen pulled away, leaning back casually. “So why the observation tower? Did you want to stargaze?”

Laurent’s heart pounded from the realisation that he was prepared for Damen to kiss him. He wanted him to.

Of course he wanted him to. Laurent had been dreaming about it since he was a boy; at night as he fell asleep, when a hero in his books reminded him of Damen, when his studies bored him.

But then, if Laurent was receptive and willing to kiss Damen after several failed tries, why hadn’t Damen done it?

He tried for the same casualness as Damen, but there was an edge to his voice. “That had been the plan, but it’s for too early for that now.”

Damen watched him curiously. Laurent wanted to snap at him, but was determined to keep this as friendly as possible.

“Do you think we’ll ever get along?”

“What?” The question had been so blunt Laurent’s frustration had dissipated.

“I can’t seem to say or do the right thing on any occasion.”

Laurent bit his cheek. They were back on this. He replayed their conversation in his head.

He took a deep breath. “I can’t seem to read you.”

This seemed to amuse Damen. “Oh?”

Laurent glared. “Don’t look so smug.” He sat up straight, stalling. “I think you’re going to do one thing, then you do another, or say another, and it frustrates me. Yet you seem to read me so well.”

Damen hummed, casting his eyes to the sky. “Everyone has always claimed to be able to read me like a book.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better, to know that I’m below average?”

Damen smiled at him, not cocky, but kind, and it made Laurent feel like a boy again, his heart fluttering. “I think you’re looking at it from the wrong angle. Come sit beside me.”

Laurent hesitated, wanting to keep him in his sights. But he conceded and moved so his arm almost brushed Damen’s.

“Not like that. You have to relax.” He touched Laurent’s back, and his hand was massive. It covered half of Laurent’s back. How was he supposed to relax like this? “We’re partners in this. Working toward the same goal. This isn’t chess.”

“If it were, I’d have beaten you a week ago.”

Damen laughed. “I’d say we should play, but I fear you in a competitive setting.”

“Perhaps with swords, then. My skill has improved greatly in the last five years.”

“I look forward to it.”

Laurent brushed his hair behind his ear, an unconscious gesture that, when he saw Damen watching, made his stomach flutter. He dropped his hand to his lap and looked straight ahead. “What’s next?”

Damen’s eyes moving away from him made him feel cold. He wanted them back. “Now we have the same perspective.”

That was impossible, both literally and figuratively. Laurent laid down.

“Are you so determined to have this distance that you won’t try?”

Damen sounded frustrated for the first time since his arrival. Laurent smiled at him.

He tugged lightly on Damen’s chiton. “Lay down.”

He did, his shoulder touching Laurent’s.

“Now we have the same perspective.”

Damen was quiet. Laurent looked to him to see his boyish grin.

“You’re quite moody.” It came as a shock to Laurent to hear his voice sounding almost affectionate.

Damen turned his face so Laurent could feel his breath. “You’re one to talk.”

“Have you forgot how massive you are?”

Damen’s laugh on Laurent’s neck made him shiver.

Damen noticed.

He looked into Laurent’s eyes with a question. Carefully he reached up and touched the crook of his neck. When the only response he received was a blush, his fingers trailed up his neck to his chin. It wasn’t a delicate touch, Damen had too much hand for that. It was firm and strong and rough, and Laurent’s breath was shallow.

Damen looked to his lips. “Laurent?”

“Are you going to kiss me or not?”

Damen pushed himself up on his elbow. “You’re bossy.”

He played with a lock of hair at Laurent’s ear, and, when Laurent huffed, he kissed him.

At first there was no feeling, then a warmth spread through his chest, then a heat. As Damen kissed him, his hand moving to his waist to play with the hem of his coat, Laurent let the hum in his head take over.

Just this once he would let himself enjoy kissing Damen, without plan or agenda. He’d been wanting this kiss for so long. Just once.

When Damen pulled away, returning for more at Laurent’s jaw and neck, he was breathless.

Damen laughed into his neck. “You’re supposed to breathe through your nose.”

Laurent kicked him lightly. His heart was frantic. “I know.”

Damen pulled back to look at him. Laurent could hardly keep his eyes open.

Damen traced his cheek bone, around his ear, down his jaw. “Are you always so red when you’re kissed, or am I the only one who can do this?”

“How should I know?”

Damen pulled back slowly, placing his palm flat on the floor. “Was that your first kiss?”

Laurent’s body tensed. “Is that a problem?”

“You said you’d been courted before.”

Laurent shoved him back, getting to his feet. “I said I’d never accepted any invitations.” It was remarkable how strong his voice was with the buzz in his head. “If that’s a problem, then you can leave right now.”

“Wait, Laurent.” Damen got to his feet. “I’m just surprised.”

Laurent turned away, his chest was tight, like someone had pulled the laces at his back too hard.

“Laurent, please look at me.”

Had it not been for the pleading in his voice, Laurent wouldn’t have complied.

“When I look at you, I wonder how you haven’t been given everything you’ve ever wanted by people tripping over themselves just to glance at you.” He took Laurent’s hand. “When I find out that’s not the case, I’m going to be surprised.” He ran his thumb over Laurent’s knuckles. “Just like you’re surprised by me, I’m surprised by you.”

Laurent huffed. “I know that. I understand all of this, but-” He brushed his hair into his face. “I also know what kind of man you are. Everyone does. And here I am with nothing to stand on.”

Damen pulled Laurent into his very hard chest. “That’s fine. You don’t need to be anything more than you are. If you don’t feel confidant, I’ll teach you.”

Laurent’s head buzzed, his cheek pressed to Damen’s shoulder. He reached up and put his hand to Damen’s chest, and pushed lightly. “Yes, well.” He cleared his throat. “We should head back.”

Damen’s hand slipped into his again, and Laurent kept his eyes forward as everyone watched them walk with hungry eyes. The gossip of it would reach Auguste before Laurent could tell him. He sighed.

* * *

Irodocia grinned at him when she sat at the table for dinner. Was it Damen’s or his expression that told her so much? “Damen.” She placed her chin on laced fingers. “You received a letter while you were out.” She nodded to a servant who brought it forward.

Laurent’s eyes followed the paper as it was handed to Damen. He sat up straight to try to read it over his shoulder, but the unfamiliar hand made it difficult.

Irodocia drummed her fingers on the table. Her nails were still Akielon short. “Well, what does it say?”

“Nikandros is coming. He should be here in two days.”

Laurent dropped his glass. He suddenly felt very weak.

“Laurent?” Irodocia reached out to touch his hand, but he pulled away, righting the glass.

“I’m sorry. It seems I’m more tired from last night than I previously believed.” He turned to the servant that was cleaning up his mess. “Please have my dinner delivered to my room.”

He rushed past Damen, ignoring his worry, feeling the brush of his fingers as he reached out to touch Laurent’s hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested in getting responses from me, or you're wondering where I'm disappearing to, you can message me on my Tumblr, Leighonardo.


	7. We Need to Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't edited this chapter. I wanted to get it out tonight before work. I'll look at it tomorrow.

The bed at Laurent’s waist dipped under Auguste’s weight, causing Laurent to roll into him.

Auguste brushed the hair from his eyes. “Everyone is worried.”

Laurent groaned. “Must I come tomorrow?”

“You must. You’re still a prince.”

“I could abdicate.”

“Then everyone would know something’s wrong.”

Laurent pulled the blanket over his head. “I don’t want to meet him again.”

Auguste ran his hand down Laurent’s blanketed arm. “You know he never meant to hurt you.”

“I do know.” He pulled his knees in tight. “Still.”

“I know. But you’re strong, and you have a will that can put all others to shame. You can survive five weeks with Nikandros.”

Laurent took in a shaking breath until his lungs hurt, and said no more. He was right. Laurent would do what he needed to. But he would take one more  night to pity his poor luck.

* * *

Laurent didn’t greet Nikandros with Auguste and Damen. He refused to leave his room, claiming paperwork had piled up during his courting.

He couldn’t avoid him at dinner, however. Auguste had threatened to have him dragged out of his rooms whether he made good on his threat to spend his night half naked or not.

He sat to his brothers right, his reserved spot, instead of beside Damen as he had been. He held his chin high, and looked only at Auguste or his food. No one else needed to see his shaking.

Nikandros paid him special attention. “Prince Laurent, your brother tells us that you’re considering a year in Patras as an ambassador?”

Laurent glared at Auguste. “It’s only a possibility right now. Hardly more than a suggestion.”

Damen leant toward him. “You never mentioned this to me.”

Laurent paused with his cup lifted to his lips and set it down. “Between the early stages of the planning, and the equally early stages of our courting, it hasn’t seemed important to share. In fact.” He turned his glare to Auguste. “I hadn’t planned on telling anyone just yet.”

Nikandros sat up straight, the movement making Laurent freeze. “Courting?”

Laurent turned to Damen. “You haven’t told him?”

“It hasn’t come up.”

Nik grinned at Damen jovially.

Damen’s cheeks turned red. “Stop it, Nik,” he muttered through clenched teeth.

Laurent raised his brow. “Is there a joke you two are making? Perhaps at my expense?”

Damen’s face darked further. “No, of course not. Nikandros just thinks…”

“Thinks?” He turned to Nikandros for the first time.

Damen cleared his throat. “He thinks you had feelings for me the last time I was here.”

Laurent looked contemplative, like he was letting the news sink in. He took a long drink as everyone watched him.

“He’s right.”

There was a beat, and everyone reacted at once.

Irodocia squealed, clasping her hands. Nick slapped Damen’s back. Auguste touched Laurent’s arm; “Laurent?”

Damen gaped at him.

He stood. “If you will excuse me.”

Auguste stood to follow him, but Irodocia pulled him back down as Damen chased after him.

“Laurent, wait.”

He stopped a few paces down the corridor, his entire body shaking. He didn’t want to turn around. He could keep the burning in his hands and throat at bay only so long as he didn’t look at Damen.

“Is that true?”

“Do you think it gives you an advantage?” He examined his nails. “Because I got over that little crush not long after you left.”

“No, that’s not-” Damen took a breath. “When you said you’d been in love before.”

“You’re correct.” He took even breaths, and the burning lessened. He turned to Damen, seeing the mess he’d become. Laurent’s heart pounded.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Now, or then?”

“Both.”

“What would it accomplish? I told you the feelings passed. I was a child.”

“If you had told me-”

“What? You would have promised yourself to a fourteen-year-old boy? We both know you’re not that kind of man.”

Damen’s face twisted.

“See? The only thing that would have changed is our relationship, and not for the better. Where would we be now?”

He let that wash over Damen.

“It’s best this way. You don’t have to carry the guilt of hurting a man you’re now attracted to.” He looked back to the door. “Your friend is waiting for you to return, and I have a book to get to. Good evening, Damianos.”

He left Damen there, feeling light-headed, a bounce in his step, slightly suffocated.

* * *

Auguste burst into Laurent’s room, making him jump. “What was that?”

Laurent put his book down, burying his hands in the blankets on his lap to hide the shaking. “What? I told him the truth. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Don’t.” The look on Auguste’s face as he held Laurent’s eyes made his throat tighten. “Don’t play this game with me.” He put a hand on the desk, his muscles taut. “I don’t like what this revenge is doing to you. I don’t like the person you’re becoming, this manipulation. It’s not you. Don’t try to tell me that it is, I know you.”

Laurent gripped the blanket so his fingers turned white. “You wanted me to tell him.”

“Not like this. Not to hurt him or make him feel guilty. I wanted you to tell him to ease your pain and help you move on. I wanted you to clear the air, not muddy it further.”

“I told him it wasn’t his fault.” Laurent stared at the wall in front of him, his eyes burning. “I was a child with high expectations, unreasonable expectations. I absolved him of fault for my feelings for him.” He swallowed thickly.

“Did you really?”

Laurent closed his eyes tight, taking a deep breath. “I still hate him for lying to me, and laughing at me. I can’t forgive him for that. But he was right to not consider me as a child. I knew that even then.”

Auguste collapsed onto the bed beside him, his massive size bouncing Laurent. “You still need to tell him about that.” Auguste took his hand, squeezing it. “I know you’re not ready yet, but you need to try.”

Laurent ran his fingers roughly through his hair. “If I promise to think about it, can we stop talking about it?”

Auguste sighed heavily. “Laurent.”

“I promise, Auguste. So, please, just for tonight.”

He sighed again, softer. “Okay. But we’re not done. I’m still not happy.”

Laurent buried his face in Auguste’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

There was a knock, and Alexis peaked his head in. “Prince Damianos requests to see you, your highness.”

Auguste kissed his head. “I will see you at lunch tomorrow.” It wasn’t a question.

Damen entered when Auguste left. He looked unsure at first, but straightened his shoulders and went to sit where Auguste had just been.

The two of them had similar physiques and personalities, but they gave off different airs.

Damen seemed haggard. “I’ve been thinking about what just occurred.”

“I had thought that had been resolved.”

“It should be, but I can’t seem to let it. Laurent.” He rubbed at his evening stubble, closing his eyes. “There’s a missing piece to all of this.”

“Oh?” Laurent stretched out his fingers, tapping them on the bed.

Damen leant back, looking at the ceiling. His eyes ran over the intricate paintings with vague dislike. “If it’s true that you used to have feelings for me, why didn’t you see me off? And why did you never write me?”

“I already explained why I never wrote.”

“That was before. Now that I know how you felt it doesn’t make sense.”

Laurent sighed. He’d never expected Damen to ask these questions. It was only his own need for detail that made him think up reasons. “I didn’t see you off because I didn’t want to watch you go.” He looked away from Damen’s eyes. “And I didn’t write because I couldn’t. I was a confused boy in love for the first time.” He felt dizzy. “Then I really did forget. My feelings passed, and life here was more important.” He took a breath and leveled his gaze, eyes narrowed, on Damen. “Are my answers satisfactory?”

Damen reached out and cupped his face. “Is that really all?”

“That’s really all.”

“Okay.” Damen nodded. “Okay.”

“May I get back to my reading now?” He looked meaningfully at his book, opened to the last few pages.

“Of course. I’m sorry.”

Damen leant down, kissing him quickly, a peck. It was such a simple thing, something familiar that he’d seen lovers do his whole life. Thoughtless. But it made Laurent’s head buzz with distracting emotions.

He pressed his lips together as Damen left, then rubbed at them as the doors closed to chase away the feeling. They burned, but the warmth had settled in his chest, and Laurent couldn’t rid himself of it by holding his breath, pushing on his chest with both hands, or removing his shirt to counter it with the evening cold.

This was not the plan. Laurent should be in complete control. He could not fall back in love with Damen.

* * *

Laurent did not sit beside Damen at lunch the next day, which was noted by their entire party.

Damen hung back as they left, moving to sit across from him, and waited until he looked up from his book. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything is fine. I’m giving you time with your friend. He only just arrived, and I can imagine you two don’t see each other much with his military duties.”

Damen smiled at him warmly. “Thank you.”

Laurent was prepared this time when Damen kissed him, and he kissed back, spurring Damen to kiss him again, until Laurent pulled away.

“He’s waiting for you.”

“Right. Tomorrow, then.” He tucked Laurent’s hair behind his ear. “I want to spar with you.”

Laurent nodded. “Tomorrow.”

* * *

Tomorrow came too early with a knock on Laurent’s door. He mumbled something unintelligible and the door opened to let Irodocia in.

“Laurent, sweety? Are you awake?”

He pushed himself up with difficulty, having twisted himself up in his blankets while he slept. “Yes. What is it?”

She sat beside him. “I would like your advice.”

Laurent saw how unhappy she looked when he managed to blink the sleep from his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m worried about Auguste. He’s so stressed lately. I know being home and working is harder on him that being in Akielos, but this is worse than I’d thought it would be. He seems overworked.”

Laurent’s throat felt light. “What would you like advice on? How you can help him?”

Irodocia looked at the floor. “No. I already know there’s not much I can do for his position. I’m learning to read and write Veretian so I can help with paperwork. I’m working on relations with the council members, and I’ve taken as much of the wedding planning onto myself as Auguste will allow.”

Laurent sat beside her. “So then what is it that you do want?”

Her cheeks were a faint red, and Laurent was envious of her skin tone that hid most of her blush. “Is there a way to relieve him of stress quickly, even if only for a while?”

“You mean aside from sex?”

Laurent wondered how red she would be if she’d been Veretian in that moment. “We haven’t- You know we haven’t-”

Laurent fell back in a fit of laughter. “Yes, I know. Auguste is far too honourable to slip up that way, no matter how much he wants to. You needn’t worry about his reputation with me.”

Irodocia fell back with a sigh. “You are such a tease.”

He laughed harder, his face red. “I wouldn’t say that again. It doesn’t mean what you think it does.”

“What? What does it mean?”

“It has certain connotations.”

Irodica covered her face with her hands and groaned loudly. “Veretian is so difficult to learn.”

“You will be fine. Just run new phrases past Auguste or me before using them in public.”

She slapped the bed with both hands. “Perhaps we should postpone the wedding.”

Laurent sat up so quickly he felt a rush. “You can’t.”

Iro stared at him, speechless.

“You need to give the council and the public the impression that this union is flawless. Vere is a fickle country, concerned with appearances more than anything. If the council believes that this is too much trouble, they could put an end to it. If the people don’t believe in you, they could lose faith in Auguste.”

Irodocia paled as he spoke, and Laurent feared he’d swayed her in the wrong direction.

“There is one thing I know will lift Auguste’s spirits. A game we played when I was a child.”

She sat up, her thick curls pulled from her braid, framing her face and neck like a wild woman. “Tell me.”

* * *

Laurent and Irodocia waited in the garden for Auguste and Damen, who’d been fetched by two guards. They’d had a private lunch to give the men a false sense of worry. Irodocia’s lip was swollen from biting it to keep her giggles at bay.

They froze when they heard Auguste calling their names. Laurent held his breath as he waited for their footsteps to come closer.

When they were finally on the other side of their hiding place, Laurent nodded to Irodocia, and they jumped out, tossing the water in their buckets at them.

“To the fountain!” Laurent tossed his bucket aside and ran as fast as he could.

Damen’s legs were longer, and he caught Laurent just a few metres from the water, lifting him by the torso.

Irodocia screamed his name, caught by Auguste.

They were both tossed into the fountain.

Laurent came up quickly, splashing on Damen as much as he could. Irodocia was being dragged down by her dress, which Laurent considered an unfair disadvantage.

“Grab Auguste!”

Irodocia looked confused for a moment, but caught on when Laurent lunged.

She proved to be smart in the moment. While Laurent tried to pull him down with his strength, Irodocia wrapped her arms around his neck and fell back, using her weight.

Damen retreated, and had to be tempted back with jeers and pleas from Auguste to save him.

Irodocia sat on Auguste to keep him in place. She shouted something to Laurent in Akielon that Laurent didn’t understand, but made Damen flush. She winked at him, making her intention clear.

With shaking hands and a pounding heart, Laurent stretched his torso, brushing his dripping hair back with both hands.

With a look to the sky like a plea to the gods, Damen came to him.

He was rewarded with a splash to the face and a yank on his chiton while he was off balance.

The game continued for twenty minutes, everyone screaming in their own languages so there was no order or communication between the teams, until half the water in the fountain was on the stone and grass beside it, or otherwise dripping from their clothes, and they were all shivering.

“All right. We’ve embarrassed ourselves enough for the day.”

Laurent and Irodocia grinned at each other, making Auguste roll his eyes.

“We should all get presentable for dinner, lest father hear about this.”

Irodocia skipped over to Laurent, holding her skirts up with both hands. “Thank you, Laurenaki mou.” She kissed his cheek and returned to Auguste’s side, ignoring the ladies that came rushing toward her.

Damen slipped an arm around his waist. “What exactly was that?”

“Do you not have water fights in Akielos? I should have guessed from your performance.”

“We do, but that wasn’t what I was asking.” He paused. “What do you mean by ‘my performance’?”

Laurent laughed, his wet shoes making him slip on the grass. He grabbed Damen’s chiton, pulling it off his shoulder, making Laurent laugh harder.

“Okay, okay. Let’s get you dry and into a new puzzle of an outfit.”

Laurent couldn’t help but laugh even more. Everything in that moment felt so light and wonderful and funny, especially Damen’s adoring little smile.


	8. Chapter 8

Laurent was still in a good mood when he and Damen made their way to the sparring ground the next day. It was like he’d had too much wine. (Or so he imagined. He’d never had more than a single cup.)

He swung his sword at Damen like an inept child, striking a heroic pose outside the door.

Damen lazily parreyed his next swing, attacking with the same slow ease.

Laurent countered with brovato, crying out like it had been a great feat.

Damen reached around him to open the door, stepping closer to Laurent than necessary.

There were laughing voices on the other side. Laurent put his ear to the door. With a finger to his lips to silence Damen, he put his ear to the door.

“Laurent, you shouldn’t listen at doors.”

Laurent shushed him. It was childish, yes, but Laurent felt like a child in a way he hadn’t since he was fourteen.

“Hard to believe the Akielon’s have been here for two weeks.” Laurent couldn’t place the voice. “It feels like longer.”

“I’m enjoying it.” That was Lazar, a mid-level soldier. Laurent didn’t know him well. “All that half naked skin. You think I could get one of them to teach me to wrestle?”

“I think I’d like to wrestle with the king’s bride.”

“Don’t let anyone hear you say that. You never know how the king will respond.”

“You think the king’s touched her yet? He sure does look at her like he has.”

Laurent tensed, a fire lit in his chest.

Damen, who hadn’t been listening, put a hand on his shoulder. “Laurent?”

“Why do you think they’ve rushed the wedding? Probably to get ahead of the baby bump.”

Lightning pulsed through laurent’s veins. He slammed open the door, making the two men jump. “Pick up your sword.”

“Your highness.” Lazar was pale. He bowed to Laurent.

“I said pick up your sword.”

Lazar looked to his companion, unsure. The he did as laurent commanded, hesitantly.

Laurent advanced on him with squared shoulders and heavy footsteps. He swung at Lazar, who barely managed to block him.

There was plain shock in Lazar’s face. He’d never seen Laurent fight. And his slow reaction put him at a disadvantage. He wasn’t able to keep up, and Laurent was coming at him with a savage anger he rarely felt. It gave him an extra speed.

After nearly two minutes of blocking, Lazar faltered. His sword arm twisted, and he gasped in pain.

Laurent halted his next swing, instead kicking Lazar back. When he was on the ground, Laurent stepped on his neck, using just enough pressure to make it hard for Lazar to breathe. “You will go to my brother and apologise for the slander you have used to sully his name. Your rank will be dropped, and you will spend the rest of the Akielon’s stay mucking the stables. Do you understand?”   
Lazar, gasping for breath, managed a nod, and Laurent removed his foot.

“Go. Now.”

Lazar left the room in a rush, rubbing at his throat, the unknown soldier at his heels. Laurent would find out his name and he would share Lazar’s punishment.

Damen took slow, even steps toward Laurent, like he would an feral animal, and Laurent wanted to recoil. But when Damen touched the back of his neck, he relaxed slightly. His other hand pulled the ribbon from Laurent’s hair, letting it fall down his back. He slowly ran his fingers up Laurent’s scalp, then through his hair, over and over until it ran smooth.

Laurent, with a deep, heavy sigh that seemed to expel every emotion, leant his head on Damen’s shoulder. Tears welled up in his closed eyes, but they didn’t fall. He would not cry over this.

With a shaking breath to steady himself, Laurent said, “My arm is tired,” making Damen laugh.

“Shall we postpone our match?”

“I was supposed to show you my skill.”

“You gave me a good taste. I can see that you’ve improved greatly. But I would like to fight you fresh, to know the true extent of it.”

Laurent nodded.

They stayed like that for a while longer, Damen slowly playing with Laurent’s hair, until he was able to compose himself.

* * *

The next morning was unnaturally cold for summer. Laurent woke in the early hours, before dawn, shivering, and called for a servant to draw him a hot bath and light a fire. His skin was always warmed for a while after a bath, it it would make it easier to sleep again.

As the servant was leaving, Laurent stopped him. “Make sure the Akielon’s have extra blankets. They will have an extra difficult time with this cold, and many cannot speak Veretian to ask.

“Yes, Your Highness.” He left.

As Laurent soaked, he thought about Damen shivering in coats and furs when they were young and smiled. Perhaps he should have another brought in the morning.Laurent doubted Damen would have adequately prepared with it being summer.

* * *

The cold air always made it difficult for Laurent’s fingers to maneuver his back laces. They felt stiff.

There was a knock at his door, and Auguste and Damen entered.

“What is this?” Damen watched him work curiously.

Auguste came to his aid, and smiling at Laurent as he huffed. “My dear little brother refuses to have a servant dress him.

“Why is that?”

Laurent flushed under Auguste’s ecstatic grin. “Oh, please tell him, Laurent. Please.”

Laurent stepped on his toe, but he didn’t even flinch.

He turned away from Damen, his neck hot. “The heroes in my story books never let anyone dress them.”

Auguste guffawed. He gave Laurent a boisterous hug, rocking them both. Laurent pushed him off.

When he dared a glance at Damen, Laurent saw that he was grinning amusedly, and Laurent glared. “Do you have something to say?”

“Just that your desire to be an honourable and brave person is admirable.”

This surprised Laurent and Auguste, who both stared at him.

Damen raised a brow. “What?”

Laurent sat down at his vanity to brush his hair, watching Auguste and Damen through the mirror, the reverse image placing them in a separate space. “You have a unique way of looking at things.”

Damen came forward, taking the brush and running it through Laurent’s hair, forcing himself, unintentionally, back into the same space as Laurent.

Laurent looked to Auguste watching him with pure sadness. How would he feel if this was real? If Laurent were eagerly courting and being courted by Damen. Would he really be as excited as he seemed to think?

Laurent watched him leave quietly. As the door clicked shut, he noticed the way Damen watching him in the mirror, their eyes connected.

It was a breathless moment for Laurent, staring into those eyes that found innocence in him, where maybe there was, but not enough.

He stood up, moving away from Damen, able to breathe only when he was turned completely away from him.

“Laurent?”

He held a hand up to silence Damen. “I just need a moment.”

He could hear Damen moving around behind him. “I knew Veretian’s were shy when it came to simple affection.” There was a smile in his voice.

Laurent doubled over, his hand to his mouth as he lost himself in laughter at how simply Damen could fill in Laurent’s story with his odd conclusions. How did he think up such things? “You’re too easily affectionate is all.”

Damen put a hand gently on Laurent’s back, making him jump. He hadn’t even noticed Damen walk up to him.

Laurent turned to face Damen, looking up into his face. Damen’s hand had slid over Laurent’s waist, his arm encircling Laurent, holding the smaller man to him. His other hand came up to trace Laurent’s jaw, and his lips. He looked over Laurent’s face and down his neck. He smiled.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s cold. I’m cold.”

Laurent’s heart pounded. His breath stayed even with difficulty. They were close enough that Damen could possibly feel it. He put his hand on Damen’s chest to push him back, but he paused when he felt Damen’s heartbeat though his hard chest. His eyes went to it, wide.

Damen shifted closer to Laurent, brushing against him.

Laurent’s breath hitched, and he jumped back, just a few inches, but Damen’s hand pulled back, hanging in the air.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just-” His voice caught. He put a hand to his chest, trying to calm his racing pulse.

Tears came to his eyes, and there was no reason for them to. There was no reason for Laurent to be scared. But he was.

He closed his eyes and took deep breaths, trying to will the tears away. Damen’s intense gaze on him didn’t help at all.

Eventually they disappeared, but Laurent still couldn’t turn around. If he looked at Damen it would be too much and he would break.

“Laurent-”

Laurent’s hand flew up to silence Damen as a flood of tears came rushing back at Damen’s voice saying his name. Laurent couldn’t stop them this time. His body shook, shoulders hunching forward. Laurent’s fingers curled as all of his energy formed into a swirling pit in his stomach.

Damen put his hand on the spot between Laurent’s shoulder and his spine, so big it covered both. Laurent flinched away.

There was another pause before Damen left the room.

Laurent fell onto his bed. For several moments he was stunned. He stared forward at nothing, his eyes glazed over, tears falling down his cheeks, before he really started to cry. He pulled his knees to his chest and cried with his lips pursed into them. His eyes pinched closed. They just wouldn’t stop.


	9. Hair

Things between Laurent and Damen were extremely tense over the next few days. Laurent couldn’t look Damen in the eye, and he’d become prone to random bouts of anger whenever the two of them were in the same room for longer than a few minutes.

It drove Laurent crazy that he couldn’t figure out what had bothered him so much. He had no reason to be scared. Sex didn’t bother him, he’d seen in plenty of times in his life. And he’d imagined it dozens of times more often. He wasn’t shy of his own body, or ashamed to have it be seen. He knew he was objectively beautiful. And he was ready for it, had been for years. Quite ready. Could he have just forgot Damen and the swarm in his chest when Laurent thought of him, he’d have got it out of the way years ago, when everyone else his age had.

His celibacy was because of Damen. So, logically, if it was with Damen, he shouldn’t have any problems. He wasn’t even planning to go through with anything, so there really shouldn’t be a problem.

So what the fuck?

Damen, for his part, had been walking on eggshells around Laurent, which did nothing to help the situation, as it only added to Laurent’s anxiety. He spoke quietly, like Laurent was a chained animal ready to bite, which made him feel like one.

Damen hadn’t touched Laurent, either, which should have made him feel better, as every time he felt Damen’s skin, particularly the calluses on his palms, it sent chills through him, like a sudden dip in a pond during the first mildly warm day of spring, long before it was appropriate.

Maybe if Damen would touch him just once, instead of acting like Laurent was something to be scared of, he would take away the mind numbing screaming in his head and chest and fingertips.

The only consolation was that Auguste had been too busy to confront him about it, and Laurent didn’t want to give him time by helping out. He didn’t think he could handle hearing “tell Damen the truth” again. Not now.

Four days passed like that. Four days! Finally Laurent decided that dealing with Auguste’s guilt trip was better than any more.

He burst into Auguste’s office late that night, making him jump when the doors slammed into the walls, which he really should have been used to by now. “I need some of your self righteous nagging right now.”

Auguste flicked his eyes to the left, and Laurent saw Damen sitting beside him, and tensed.

Damen cleared his throat and stood. “We’ll continue this another time.” He nodded to Laurent as he left.

Auguste watched as Laurent’s face turned red and he scowled, turning on his heel and storming from the room after Damen.

“Was this all just for a fuck?”

Damen stumbled, almost walking into a wall. He turned to Laurent with unguarded shock, his face more red than Laurent had ever seen. “What?”

“I won’t fuck you and now you won’t even touch me?”

Laurent knew what he was saying was wrong, that Damen wouldn’t even think of doing such a thing. If he wanted a quick roll in the sheets, he had pleanty of options, pleanty here in this castle, and Damen would be honest about what he wanted with them.

But Laurent was angry and frustrated, and he wanted to take it out on Damen, the source of his anger, the source that wasn’t himself. He couldn’t be honest about why he was really angry, so this became why.

“Laurent.” Damen looked at the crowd they were attracting. “Can we talk about this in private?”

Laurent took a step back, his eyes narrowing further. “I have to speak to Auguste now. Privately.” His voice was even and low, and he could see that it made Damen hurt, and Laurent wasn’t sure if the resulting shift in his chest was better or worse.

He stormed back to Auguste’s office.

Auguste looked ready to blow, but at the sight of his little brother crying, his anger faded. “Laurent.”

“I don’t want to hear it. Not anymore.” He brushed his clothed wrist over his eyes, the expensive silk just spreading his tears over his face. “I don’t want to hear anything.”

Auguste went to Laurent and slowly led him to sit in his own chair.

It was an uncomfortable change in perspective. This was where Auguste sat every day. This is what Laurent would see if he were king.

Laurent was never meant to be king. He didn’t want to be king.

Where would he be if he really were to marry Damen.

Auguste sat across from him, where Laurent usually sat, and it made Laurent’s chest feel tight. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but this is something we have to talk about. This behavior is unacceptable. You’re making a fool of yourself.” He leaned forward, his hands folded on the table in faux patience. “You need to tell me what happened.”

Laurent squirmed. Even inside the Veretian court he didn’t think he could talk to his brother about his freak out at Auguste’s close friend’s erection.

But as Auguste said his name in that low, warning tone he never used, Laurent told him the entire story, red faced and sinking slowly down the chair.

Auguste didn’t even blush.

“Have you tried talking to him about it?”

“And tell him what? I don’t even know what’s wrong.”

Auguste stared at him for a long time, thinking. He took a deep breath. “I think I know why.”

Laurent sat up straight, gripping the seat of the chair. “Why?”

Auguste looked him in the eyes, his face cracking with sympathy. “You know what your doing is wrong. Sex is a big thing for some people, and you can’t do it under deciet.” Auguste held out his hand and Laurent gripped it, needing the comfort even as he wanted to pull away from what he was hearing. “You won’t be okay with it until you tell Damen the truth, and you two can connect from the heart.”

Laurent stared at the table, breathing deeply. He knew Auguste was right, he could feel it. But he didn’t know what that meant going forward.

* * *

Laurent spent the next few days helping Irodocia plan many of the final details of the wedding, to both distract himself and give himself time to think.

Irodocia proved to be a comforting presence, as he’d taken note of during their small times together. She knew something was wrong, but decided against pestering him about it. Probably it was something in his face, as she took one look at him and dragged him into her work.

Laurent was surprised at how much he enjoyed the small, almost inconsequential tasks. Flower arrangements and placement, which shade of white to make every piece of cloth, what new dishware to add to the already massive collection from past weddings, lettering on the seating cards.

Laurent handled the seating personally. The last time all the major houses were in the castle was five years ago, during Auguste’s coronation. There had been some changes to their families, so they couldn’t use the same seating, and Irodocia was still learning all their names and titles.

The Akielons were simple. Only Irodocia’s and Damen’s family would be attending, as it was in another country, and Irodocia assured him they would sit wherever they chose at their tables, so he only needed to make sure there were enough chairs.

Laurent liked sorting through the little details. He was a detail man. It was another reason he was glad Auguste was king and not him; just the idea of having to make such big decisions that affect the entire country made him ill.

“When do the other Akielon guests arrive?”

“Only a week before the wedding.” Irodocia was looking at different tiaras with such extreme boredom her voice was as blank as her face. The first few pieces of Jewelry had excited her, but now she just wanted them all gone, missing free arms and necks. “Your mother wore a different kind of crown at the piece talks.”

“A diadem. Only the queen is allowed to wear it. You have to wait until the paperwork to add you to our family is officiated after the wedding.” Laurent felt warm. It was finally hitting him that he was going to have a sister.

“Why are you smiling?”

Laurent sat back in his chair, flexing his sore hand. “I just realised your earrings and necklace clash.”

“They do?” She sighed. “I just can’t seem to catch onto all these rules.”

“It’s fine. I’ll help you until you do.”

Irodocia smiled at him. “You’re wonderful. Auguste told me as much, of course, but it’s hard to know if I can trust him when he gets that adoring look on his face. But it’s true.”

She picked up a tiara and examined it, her lips pursed in frustration. “This one will be fine. I don’t care anymore.” Then she gave a loud sigh that turned into a groan. “I have to do a dress fitting tomorrow. Will you come so I don’t embarrass myself?”

Laurent covered his smile with a piece of paper. “Of course.”

“Don’t laugh at me.” She threw the pillow the tiara had been sitting on at him, missed, and hit an ink bottle, spilling the contents on the seating chart.

Gasping, she covered her mouth with both hands, dropping the tiara. When it hit the floor several jewels fell out.

Irodocia swore loudly in Akielon, making Laurent double over with laughter, clutching his desk and covering himself with ink.

As he caught his breath, he used the same hand to brush his hair back without thinking, staining a chunk of it. “He swore quietly, looking at his hand, making Irodocia laugh just as hard.

* * *

The three servants who worked on his hair that night couldn’t seem to get the colour out, even after four hours of scrubbing, so Laurent had them cut it.

Losing his hair felt like a punch. It had nearly reached the small of his back, and he’d wanted to keep most of it, but only cutting the inky bits off made him look like a disaster. So now it just brushed his shoulders, layered in an interesting new way, so it was light and moved like water.

With a tickle in his throat, Laurent took a breath and went to face his judgement.

* * *

Auguste sputtered into his wine goblet when Laurent walked into the dining room, nearly choking. “Laurent -- what in the name of the gods happened to your hair?”

Laurent’s eyes stung, but he swallowed it down and took his seat to Auguste’s right. “I had it cut.”

“But why?”

Laurent took a drink of water as he steadied his emotions. “There was an incident when meeting with the manager of the treasury to look at tiara’s for the wedding.”

Auguste looked profoundly confused by his explanation.

When Irodocia walked in a minute later, she gasped so loud it made Laurent jump. “Laurent, your hair! I am so sorry!” She ran to his sice, placing a hand on his face, and ran the other through his hair. “This is all my fault.”

He took her hands and placed them at her sides. “We are equal parts at fault.”

Auguste ran his hand through his hair so harshly he may have pulled some out. “Will someone tell me what happened?”

Irodocia flushed. “I hit Laurent with a pillow.”

Auguste waited for her to continue, then looked to Laurent, who didn’t elaborate. “How does that make my brother cut his hair for the first time in a decade?”

Laurent’s face was red with held back laughter. “We need to remake the seating chart.”

Auguste buried his face in his hands. “Sweet gods, what did I do to deserve this?”

Irodocia, picking up on Laurent’s game, grinned. “I’m sure I can pay to have that tiara fixed.”

“That poor desk might be ruined though.”

“Were you attacked?” Auguste took a deep breath, rubbing at his eyes. “Please have mercy on me and tell me what happened.”

Laurent, still smiling at Irodocia, said, “I got ink in my hair,” in a voice that was almost bored. There was a tumble in his chest.

Auguste only looked mildly satisfied with this answer.

Damen came into the dining room, trailed by Nikandros. He stopped when he saw Laurent, flinching as he always did now. Behind him Nikandros glared with a barely repressed fury, as he always did now.

“Laurent, your hair.” Damen took a rushed step toward him, then stopped himself.

Irodocia burst into girlish giggles, and Laurent couldn’t help but smile, even under Damen’s hesitant gaze.

“Irodocia, would you please relay the story to Auguste? I need to speak with Damianos.” He exited the room, Damen following a moment later.

Laurent half leaned, have sat on a corridor table, nudging a vase of flowers. He took a deep breath, looking at the floor. “I’m sorry.”

Damen stalled, then took a step toward Laurent. He didn’t speak.

“I lashed out. It was childish. There’s no excuse for it.” Laurent’s lips thinned into a small line. He looked up at Damen. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not in this just for sex. If I were, I wouldn’t be trying to court you.”

“You failed once, and now you won’t touch me. You hardly look at me.”

Damen looked away, making Laurent smile ruefully. “This is all new for you. I’ve never been with a free man who’s never been with anyone before. I don’t want to push you.”

A look of disgust twisted Laurent’s face at the implication that Damen had lain with slaves. It gave him the anger he needed to storm forward and pull Damen down for a rough kiss. He held him there, dominating the kiss, his hand gripping the back of Damen’s neck. With a spit of fire, he bit Damen’s lip.

“Ow!” Damen pulled back, placing a finger to his lip to check for blood. He looked to Laurent, trying to process this new information with the soft man he’d known until now.

“I am perfectly capable of deciding what is too much for me, and expressing it. I don’t need you to do that for me.” He crossed his arms. “While we’re on the subject, I will not be warming your bed-” Even the euphemism made him blush. “-until I know for sure that you love me.”

He held up a hand to stop Damen from protesting. “I am fully aware that I have your body. That is quite clear. But I don’t have your heart, and I can’t-” His throat tightened. “... With someone who doesn’t love me.”

He stared Damen in the eyes, only inches from his chest. He could feel Damen’s warmth.

Damen smiled and put a hand to Laurent’s cheek. He ran his fingers lightly down Laurent’s neck, barely there, making him shiver. “Okay. I’ll let you tell me what you want, and what you don’t from now on. You’re in control.”

Laurent tried to respond, but his breath had left him.

Damen kissed him lightly, and Laurent could feel Damen’s lip swelling.

“So, do you want to tell me why you cut your hair?” Damen twisted a lock around his finger.

Laurent grinned. “There was an incident when meeting with the manager of the treasury to look at tiara’s for the wedding.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who's curious about the state of this account, I've been talking about it on my personal blog, Leighonardo, in the #my-writing tag.


	10. Torveld

Laurent lounged on a chaise longue, picking passively at a tray of food a servant brought him. Waiting for Irodocia to finish putting on her dress. It took a half hour before she called someone in to help, refusing to accept Laurent’s offer. It had been fifteen minutes since then.

“Ready?”

Laurent sat up. He’d been ready for the last forty-four minutes. “Come out.”

She came out in a stunning, form fitting gown that had just enough give at the thighs to walk, and a trail fit for a queen. It was true white something few Veretian’s could pull off, but brought out her warm bronze undertones; it was made for her. Small jewels covered nearly the entire bodice and sleeves.

“Well?” She turned around for him, and he saw every one of her considerable curves.

He hummed. “It’s beautiful.”

Her face fell. “What’s wrong with it?”

Laurent smiled lightly. He was constantly seeing more reasons Auguste fell in love with her; she was phenomenal at learning the the intricacies of emotion. Laurent could even occasionally trick August with that tone. “You don’t like it.”

“I don’t like any Veretian clothing.”

“You deserve to like your wedding dress. Even for a foreigner queen, the wedding is for the bride. You may not be able to wear the perfect dress, but we can do better than this.” He waved his hand flippantly. “It’s so busy, and it’s made to make you look like a sexual object. Veretian’s, particularly the court, consider Akielons to be exotic. Whomever made this dress has done so under orders to make it difficult for people to take you seriously, and I will find out whom. Many nobles still dislike the very idea of bringing foreign blood into the monarchy.” It had to be someone very high up to force someone to interfere with the kings wedding.

He walked to Irodocia, examining her. “I think I know what to do. Not all Veretian clothing is ugly.”

“You seem to know quite a lot about wedding dresses.”

“I enjoy fashion. Someone get me paper and ink. We don’t have much time if we want this made in time for the necessary fittings.”

Irodocia watched him sketch, “oh”ing to express her appreciation. She examined the final product with unguarded pleasure. “This is an appropriate dress for a Veretian queen’s wedding?”

“It’s unconventional, but so is the wedding. It will look amazing on you and make the statement that you will be a powerful queen beside Auguste.” He grinned wickedly. “And just imagine his face when he sees you.”

She flushed a deep red. “Yes. I think I should like this dress very much.”

Laurent held the sketch out to the seamstress who examined it with hesitation.

“It’s quite simple.”

“It is. Line it with Akielon cotton for comfort.” He tilted his head at Irodocia. “You should get changed if we want to make it to dinner in three hours.”

Irodocia nudged him playfully, but made her way to the next room without pause, very likely worried about just that.

* * *

Laurent was called to Auguste’s office after lunch, at which his brother was absent. He sat at his usual seat, flipping through papers passively, calculating the contents as he waited for Auguste to speak.

“Prince Torveld will be arriving tomorrow.”

Laurent sat up. “So soon?”

“His messenger was delayed. He was supposed to arrive nearly a week ago. I wasn’t given the details, but he looks worse for wear. I didn’t press.”

Laurent nodded. It was his duty to entertain visiting dignitaries and royalty when Auguste was busy.

“He and Damen haven’t met, so he will join you occasionally, as will Irodocia.”

This, too, Laurent nodded at. Patras and Akielos weren’t allys, so Vere, as a common ally, would formally introduce them and play peacekeeper if need be. Even though the two had no bad blood, it was still tradition. Laurent was unsure why Auguste was reminding him of this. He knew Laurent was fully aware of his role.

“He, um, likes blonds.” Auguste glanced at Laurent apologetically.

Laurent sighed. “You expect Damianos will be jealous.”

“I have no doubt Prince Torveld will find you attractive.”

“Until I open my mouth, of course.”

“Even then. Prince Torveld is the most mild mannered man I’ve ever met. I don’t doubt he will take everything you throw at him with eagerness for more.”

“He will be trouble.”

“Possibly more than you can manage. But I need you to manage.” He gave Laurent a hard stare, and Laurent nodded again.

“I will find the strength somehow.” He leaned back, his arm slung over the back of the chair, examining his fingernails. “Who knows, I might just like him.”

Auguste didn’t look up from his work. “He’s in his forties.”

Laurent huffed and slid down in his chair, wrinkling his nose at Auguste’s smile.

 

Torveld arrived precisely when he said he would. Laurent was impressed with his punctuality.

His herold announced him, and he bowed. “Your Majesty, Prince Laurent, Prince Damianos. Lady Irodocia.” He gave her an extra smile.

Auguste inclined his head. As a king to Torveld’s Prince, he was not required to stand.

Laurent and Damen did. Irodocia, unsure what her current position demanded (her ladies rarely attended her properly, and Laurent made a note to educate her in the future), played it safe and curtsied. She was bad at it. Her attending Veretian lady in waiting flinched.

Laurent descended the dias to stand in front of Torveld, and bowed. “I would like to personally welcome you to Vere, Prince Torveld. I would be honoured if you would allow me to escort you while you’re here.”

Torveld was clearly in awe of Laurent. He smiled so warmly that Laurent couldn’t help but be flattered. “It would be my honour, Prince Laurent.” His name sounded like it was a treat to say.

Damen tensed in his peripheral, and Laurent's smiled widened, pleasing Torveld. Laurent held out his hand for Torveld to grasp. It wasn’t necessary, but it meant trust between the two countries. Patras was a long standing ally with Vere.

Torveld took it with a beaming grin.

When Laurent turned to gesture Torveld to ascend the dias, he saw Auguste’s face shift to hide his exasperation.

He moved to stand beside Damen as Torveld and Auguste exchanged the necessary introductions. Damen looked furious, glaring at Torveld.

“You’re too obvious.”

Laurent had to bite back a laugh at Damen’s grunt. “He’s shallow.”

“You made your decision just as fast, if I recall.”

“I knew you. He only knows what you look like.”

Laurent turned his head very slightly to look at Damen. “And you’ve never pursued someone on sight?”

“Not seriously.”

Laurent elbowed him lightly. “Keep your voice down.” Torveld glanced at him and he smiled. “You’re taking this too seriously. We’ve only just met, and I’m to be his escort. I’m not so easily won over.”

Damen didn’t look relieved. “You were extra friendly with him.”

Laurent rolled his eyes. “I’m doing my duty.”

“You were flirting.”

“Well, I did enjoy the attention.”

Damen stared directly at him.

Laurent gave him a wry smile. “So that’s it. You’re afraid of a little competition. You’re afraid you’ll lose.”

Damen stared at Torveld, his expression hard. “If I am?”

That startled all the humour from Laurent. He turned to face Damen. The confession threw Laurent of centre, making him reflect Damen’s vulnerability.

With a look of tiredness, Damen put a hand on Laurent’s hip. “You’re a hard person to get close to.”

Laurent’s heart went crazy. He felt hot. He removed Damen’s hand, stepping away. “This is a political meeting.”

Damen looked satisfied anyway, and Laurent looked forward to see Torveld watching them thoughtfully.

Damen was in a bad mood over the next few days. He switched between sulking behind Laurent and Torveld, to getting far too clingy. Laurent snapped at the end of the second day, causing Damen to mutter angrily to Nikandros, who also grew frustrated after a few hours. (“It’s like Jokaste all over again.”) Laurent heard him try to use this to convince Damen to give up on him.

Torveld, to his credit, only seemed discouraged for a few hours after the meeting, when he saw Laurent’s frustration with Damen.

Laurent was a good actor when he had no personal stakes in the matter, so he made himself interested in whatever Torveld said or did.

It wasn’t entirely to bother Damen. Laurent was a good host, particularly when it affected Auguste. Torveld needed to be made to feel welcome. Flustering Damen was just a bonus.

Laurent did need to be careful not to give Torveld too much hope. Along with not wanting to deal with everything it would bring, it wouldn’t help with his relations to deny him. And he didn’t want to discourage Damen.

On the fourth night, Damen came into his room, interrupting him and Irodocia discussing a book in Veretian she’d read. It was a children's book, but it was quite the feat considering she was still learning proper grammar.

Damen swore when he saw them sitting on Laurent’s bed together, then grit his teeth, trying to compose himself.

Irodocia giggled, then let out her big belly laugh, forcing Laurent to join in until they were both falling apart.

When they began to calm down, they saw Damen pouting and fell back into another fit.

Two minutes later, Irodocia was wiping her eyes, leaning into Laurent. She cupped her hand around her mouth, close to his ear, and whispered, “I think the competition’s good for him. Forces him to try harder.”

Laurent choked back another laugh, lest they have a third fit.

She stood up, smoothing her skirts to no avail. “I’ll go find Auguste. He should be just about done for the night.”

She touched Damen’s shoulder as she left, giving him a smile.

He sat on Laurent’s bed with all his weight, making Laurent bounce considerably. He couldn’t have realistically been more than nine inches taller than Laurent, but his considerable muscle mass had to put him around two-hundred-and-fifty pounds, one-hundred more than Laurent, who wasn’t scrawny. He sighed heavily.

Laurent adopted the tone he used with his horse. “Aww, you poor thing.” He pulled his knees to his chest and leaned forward, toward Damen. “Are you having a hard time?”

Damen scowled at him with no malice. “You’re giving me a hard time, and you’re enjoying it.”

Laurent grinned at him, unabashedly. “I am.”

It calmed Damen to hear him confirm it. “I thought you were really interested in him.”

“In Torveld? Damianos, I’m entertaining him. It’s my job. I’m being nice. It doesn’t mean I want to marry him.”

Damen looked at him suspiciously. “I don’t think he knows that.”

“I can’t control what he thinks, and I won’t say anything until he makes his intentions clear.”

Damen scowled at the floor, his hands clasped.

Laurent poked his arm, startled, but not really surprised, at how hard it was when Damen was tense. He composed himself. “What else?”

Damen opened his mouth to speak.

“The truth.”

He closed his mouth, his jaw tight, making his jaw more defined. “I’ve hardly seen you since he got here.”

Laurent bit his lip to keep from laughing, drawing Damen’s eyes. “If you would get along with him, you wouldn’t have to compete, you know.”

“I don’t want to have to share you.”

Laurent cleared the laugh from his throat. “You sound like a child.”

Damen leaned in very close to Laurent, one hand on the bed to his right. The outside was open, so Laurent had the freedom to move away, but he felt trapped under Damen’s eyes. He swallowed mostly air.

“I’ve become very attached to you.” His voice was low with intent and made Laurent shiver. “I want to be with you, just us.” He looked down, his jaw moving to force calm. With a breath, he looked back int Laurent’s eyes. “I know I can’t have you to myself all the time, but occasionally would be nice.”

Laurent struggled to understand the simple words with that intense stare and deep voice. Damen moved slowly forward, which made focusing harder.

“I…”

“You?” His breath was on Laurent’s lips.

Laurent cleared his dry throat. “You’re with me now.”

Damen smiled, and leaned in to kiss him.

Laurent’s heart pounded, his pulse hard in his throat, when Damen didn’t pull back. It wasn’t as intense as the first time, but it felt heavy, a pressure in Laurent’s chest.

He managed to keep his head this time. Very slowly Laurent leaned back, pulling Damen with him. When Damen was on top of him, Laurent put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. He let the kiss last nearly a minute before sliding his hand down to Damen’s chest, and pushed on it. “Stop.”

Damen sat up. “Are you okay?”

Laurent didn’t have the energy to sit up. He was having trouble getting enough air. “I’m fine. I just want you to stop.”

Damen leaned over him again, his elbow locked to give Laurent space. “Are you sure?”

Laurent glared at him. His face and chest were burning. “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t say I am.”

Damen smiled at him. “Okay.” He brought Laurent’s limp hand to his lips, just brushing the skin of his knuckles, smiling at him over them.

Laurent narrowed his eyes further. With difficulty he pulled his hand away and turned onto his side, away from Damen.

Large fingers touched the hair at his neck, curling a lock around his finger.

Laurent didn’t tell Damen to leave, so he didn’t.

* * *

There was a quiet knock, and Alexis cracked the door open. “Your highness. Your brother requests your presence in the throne room.”

Laurent groaned, pushing himself up off the bed. He couldn’t tell Damen to leave last night, so he pretended to be asleep until he left on his own. “The throne room?”

“It sounded important.”

Laurent sighed. “Tell him I’ll be there as soon as I’m presentable.”

Usually Laurent would see Auguste in his night clothes for morning news, but this was clearly some sort of official matter. Had he offended Torveld? He thought back to his actions over the last few days. Still, it was early, and Laurent was too tired to care much about anything, so his thoughts became languid and he gave up on trying to figure it out. He dressed only enough to be presentable, wetting his hair so it would lay flat.

Ten minutes later he knocked on the throne room door and let himself in.

Torveld stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking nervous. Auguste’s expression mirrored his.

Laurent went cold, but he kept his face impassive. When the door closed, he turned to Auguste. “You wished to speak with me?”

Auguste looked openly upset with Torveld’s back to him. “Prince Torveld wants permission to court you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise you I'm reading all your comments. I'm not responding to all of them for weird perfectionist reasons, but I'm working on it.  
> If you really want responses, you're always welcome to send me an ask or a message on my Tumblr, Leighonardo. I always reply to those.


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